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irenadel · 1 year ago

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Fear Leads the Way ch.3

Filthy smut ahead, now with more blood kink. Mentions of slavery. Some unhealthy power dynamics because DUH. Darth Maul x Reader and I think we can finally admit Savage Opress x Reader. He doesn’t like it tho. He will NOT go gentle into that good night.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

The first time Maul cries in pain in your arms Savage sees red and thinks he will, at long last, be able to kill you. And you think you might let him.

It had taken weeks and weeks to get there and it wasn’t Maul who pushed through. The moment you had agreed to hold him at night it had seemed to be enough for Maul. As if all he had required to be content was for you to stop fighting his ownership of you. As if he knew once you did, you’d have nothing left but him.

You were no longer confined to their quarters… and admittedly no longer afraid to leave them lest you be punished the way you’d heard unruly pleasure slaves were. It was a strangely lonely experience though. You had even less to do than before, focusing solely on what was required of you by the Zabrak brothers (never Savage’s own cybernetics, no matter how much you winced at hastily laid out circuits and patched up nerve arrays, Maul was an excellent mechanic, but no biomechanical engineer) and you have to admit it may have been driving you a little insane. You used to do small tasks now and again for the syndicates: emergency procedures, hydraulic adjustments, little hacking jobs… part of you still hoping to save up enough to buy your freedom the way you’d heard some Hutt slaves still did. You’d worked for whoever would pay and sometimes whoever would not, as some of the higher ups in the Shadow Collective had decided to consider you at their general beck and call, so long as it didn’t interfere with your duties to Lord Maul.

Not anymore.

You are so indisputably Maul’s now that you wonder how you could have ever thought you were his before.

You never heard him announce it but somehow everyone seems to know and now they give you a wide berth. The Black Suns who used to sneer at you avoid making eye contact and the few Hutt emissaries that remain to try to make peace with the Shadow Collective have resorted to offering Maul a nicer, prettier bedslave. Maybe a more comely one, lither, less used up. You try not to show how you bristle at that. The Mandalorians, about as terrifying as the Sith Lords themselves, stand aside respectfully when you pass them by (you try not to think about how often you do pass one because you don’t want to acknowledge how much you’re being watched). For their part, the Pykes seem oddly pleased at the strange turn of events their little gift has produced, yet still continue their refusal to acknowledge you. That you understand. You were little more than a thing to them, and it was bitter, to have ended up here anyway, despite your best efforts. It tasted like copper and rage when you let yourself think about it too much, like a storm inside you brewing the desire to make someone, anyone, pay for this… and whenever you did and he was nearby, you saw Lord Maul glance your way, like a trained Tatooine massiff picking up the scent of blood.

In those moments, regardless of whatever else he might be doing, he would gesture for you to come near and would take your hand and hold it to his face, to his lips, almost smiling.

He didn’t look at you. He didn’t address you. But he kept you close, no chains, no locks, nothing else necessary to hold you but the sheer gravity of his presence. You hated it as much as you loved it.

You hated when he sneered at the Hutt party’s sniveling suggestions of an upgrade and you felt your stomach clench in fury and vindication. You hated the beautiful black gowns he kept leaving for you near the fresher, because you hadn’t seen fabric so heavy and fine and good since even before the war. Your mother had never had anything as beautiful as these. You held them to your face and refused to cry or tear them to pieces, you just put them away and continued to wear your old mechanic jumpsuit.

You didn’t hate lying beside him at night, no matter how much it stung your pride… but you did hate how touch seemed to be all he wanted from you. There had been no further amorous interludes after the first two, not in this bed, not the moment that Maul found out he could have the whole expanse of his arms and back and chest and neck touched at his pleasure. He had demanded that immediately and you had complied, and in your terrible fear of servitude and vulnerability you had never even imagined that touch was all that would pleasure him indeed. Or that it would be you, who would end up needing more, longing for his growls against your ear and the frantic grinding of his hips against yours. You didn’t hate his imperious commands for your hands, never detailed, never more than once, as if his dignity would not allow it (no thought to yours, ground to dust already by your humiliating longing for him). But you did hate how eagerly you jumped to obey and provide him all he wanted. Enough for Lord Maul but not for you and more than enough for his brother, who still slept fitfully besides you, always attentive to whatever noises the two of you would make. You couldn’t have ever known how right his vigilance had been.

Maul sighed and you could feel Savage about to jump out of his skin. Maul growled gravelly in his sleep, contentedly against the crook of your neck and you could almost feel Savage waiting to pounce. You had expected many things from your fate as his possession, but not this constant vigil.

You hadn’t expected to be so uncomfortably starved for his affection.

In all the stories you had heard whispered in Nar Shadda, in all your years as a refugee, making cybernetics for the poor and the destitute like you, living so close to slavery you could almost feel the bite of a Zygerrian collar or a Hutt implant, you had never imagined you’d be the one wondering when you would be kissed next. Or that you could hold someone so close you could feel twin hearts beating and still want more, need more, in spite of your terror and resentment of him.

The problem was that he purred. Lord Maul of the Shadow Collective purred loudly and constantly, rumbling, along the length of your body, lying between your legs, warm and hard and musky. He purred and it made everything inside you clench, desperately, hungry for his own hunger, for his tongue and his teeth and his hand wrapped around your neck, so tight and good you could still feel the thrill of it. For everything you had not asked for but still missed, for another go at his mouth and hearing him say please and ruin and want.

The second problem was that Savage purred too. Not as intimately close as Maul’s body draped across yours, but louder. Not at first either, and you would never know why or how long he had resisted this tell tale noise before he’d finally given in. Comfort having lulled him from his constant vigilance of Maul, eyes snapping open and alert at every new sound out of Maul’s mouth. Sounds that had seemed at first to Savage like Feral’s childish fretting or his own moans of protest after a hard night’s drinking to forget a visit from the Nightsisters. Then silence, the deep, even rhythm of his breath… and then like a blessing, like a memory from better times, his brother’s surprising content purring.

He had let himself be blinded by this. By this unexpected recovery of joy, of rightness… the comfort of his brother’s body so close at hand, the long-sought rumble of his dreamless sleep. He could’ve almost forgiven you for the weeks of anxious caution, for the fear… just because in your arms Maul sounded like a Nightbrother, a boy… or at least as far removed from whatever thing the Sith had tried to turn him into. It had been a rude awakening to catch the scent of your arousal in the air, to find you as dangerous and unpredictable as he had first thought you. Savage had snapped awake and watched you closely, waited, he didn’t know what for because you were no proper witch, but waited anyway, ready to fight for Maul, ready to make the Mother’s magic good for something, ready for anything but your strange refusal to act.

When you did move, it wasn’t towards his brother but away from him. You slipped a hand in between your bodies and for a stupid, senseless second Savage had thought it must have held a weapon to be wielded against Maul.

It wasn’t a vibroblade… but it was just as dangerous and even more confusing.

Your hand between your legs and it somehow took Savage a second to understand what you were doing in there, what treachery you were so clearly trying to hide.

He’d never heard of a Nightsister pleasuring herself, but there had been plenty of Nightbrothers in the communal huts. Savage had done it himself, a lifetime ago, when he still understood his life and his body. But he would not do it now, distrusted the ichor and the treachery of his kinslaying hands and it disturbed him how familiar, how nauseatingly enticing he found the quiet constrained sounds of your pleasure. A furtive, private pleasure you chose to take independent of Maul.

It made no sense, served no purpose, made no children, did not even bind his brother closer to you. All it did was flood the bed with warmth, with the musky, overpowering scent of your arousal, made Savage painfully aware of your human body, so like a Nightsister’s and yet so horribly alien at the same time.

Because you don’t yank either of them out of sleep with an order. You don’t demand combat and blood and horror. You choke down your thin little sounds, muffle your sudden desperate sob against the covers and make Savage’s skin break into goosebumps. There are no tears, no held back moans, when the Night people come together, there are no wet sounds of fingers reaching for solitary, desperate pleasure and Savage doesn’t understand why such a sounds should make his palms tingle or ichor seethe in his veins.

Savage doesn’t understand you at all, but Maul does.

“That,” he hears his brother hiss, terrifyingly awake, anger like molten lava “belongs to me.”

There’s the quick slap of Maul’s gloved hand snatching your own hands out of the way and you make another strange, otherworldly sound. Pained and high-pitched like a scream, but further back in your throat, like a wounded animal, a sound that Savage cannot fathom but which makes Maul growl and move over you.

“Please,” you beg and something in Savage’s stomach clenches because Nightsisters do not beg and Nightbrothers who beg never find themselves in a warm bed, heady with the stench of a woman’s wetness. But that please seems to do something to Maul, makes him yank your hands out of the way and above your head, your legs closing around Maul’s owns and Savage should be afraid, should be ready to flee or fight or kill, except Maul is still deeply, powerfully purring, like a boy with a full belly after a good hunt, like a young Nightbrother pumped full of spring joy, discovering the frenzied hungers of his own body, like a blessing and curse.

“You did it all wrong,” Maul whispers against your ear and Savage does not know how Maul thinks he can do this right because he knows nothing of this, of his own zabrak body drunk on your pheromones, of the danger of holding you down and holding you still and of how strange it is for you to still be begging please, please, please. Maul knows nothing but neither does Savage because he can hear your mewling, your horrible, terrible (wonderful) cry of pleasure and the squelching clench of your sex as Maul slips a still gloved finger inside you and makes you writhe and makes you sweat and makes you do things that have Savage panting for breath and desperately fighting an arousal he had almost thought gone from his life.

And Maul’s fingers are going in and out of you and Savage can hear it, like and unlike sex, deliciously suggestive of it but no treacherous velvet softness around his own member to distract him, no witch to protect his brother from, just your pitiful human body at Maul’s mercy and he can perhaps, for once, understand Maul’s obsession with power, with chains. Because if he could have you like this always, subdued and compliant, reeking of sex, of happiness, perhaps he would understand why his brother says that peace is a lie. Because this, Maul’s ragged breathing, your warm legs brushing Savage’s body whenever his brother pushes inside you too roughly, his own stubborn erection a dull and distant pleasure… This is better than peace.

Maul bites and you cry out in pain and joy. The blood he draws smells to Savage of Dathomir, except it’s not supposed to be yours and you’re no supposed buck under Maul, to beg for more, to make Savage want to flee, want to stay, want to bite down on something (you). He does not know what you’re supposed to do but Maul’s body does. And Savage can almost taste it when Maul slides between your legs. He knows the instinct, the insatiable hunger.

Because Maul is relentless, unskilled and determined and when you protest he snarls at you and makes you melt back into the bed. When your hips buck up his hands grind them back down and he is strong and impossible to guide and you’re at his mercy. And it’s both too much and not enough, each hot swipe of his tongue, each ravenous sound of ecstasy from deep in the back of his throat, reverberating against your legs and your sex and all of it is hot and alive under him.

Savage can feel it in the Force, ravenously, darkly pulsing between them. Feed, rend, take, breed. Every Nightbrother’s prayer, singing through Savage’s veins, through his groin and the unbearable hardness of his member. Because he wants that taste too, not yours, but the terrible taste of Maul’s sheer joy in you, in your thighs clamping against his horns, shredding the tender skin, wanting him so much, so much closer that blood is a price worth paying. The torrent of desire and lust and sheer want, that Maul can’t even stop. His tongue inside you, his teeth grazing you and his voice, whenever he deigns to stop for a breath, no longer velvety, but raw and impossibly deep panting yes, yes, yes.

And Savage can almost smell you climaxing, choking back his brother’s name and Maul’s making a noise like a wounded animal and lapping at the blood smearing your thighs too quick and too sudden. You’re still coming and you don’t want to stop and it’s that thoughtless desire that gives you the audacity to grab Maul’s hand and place it back on your sex if he intends to continue licking greedily at the stinging mess of your thighs.

You are too far gone to notice how immediately he obeys. Savage is too focused on keeping Dathomir’s echo from intruding. But Maul… Maul rips the glove from his hand with his teeth and thrusts his fingers inside you again, quick and efficient like he is Sidious’s weapon all over again, capable, perfect, powerful. Two, three fingers inside you and his thumb on your clitoris, because he’d prepared this time, sought the knowledge of your undoing, guides it via the flood of your scent and movements and screams. You’re screaming his name and he smiles, madly, a grimace with too many teeth.

Maul feels deliriously present, because he wants and he wants and wants and feels like he’s disappearing in desire like his master had said he would, if he focused his rage enough. But this is different. Blood and the addictive potency of your wetness, better than anger, than food, than comfort. Better than anything he’s ever tasted. A thing he’s making you do, with his hands and his mouth and his skill and he can’t wait to make you do it again and again, until you have no breath to say his name anymore, until you can’t scream it and remind him he exists.

Because that’s what you’re doing now, still panting Maul, Maul, rhythmically, in time with his fingers inside you, the whole heel of his hand incessantly, cruelly rubbing the whole of your sex, still wet, still painfully sensitive, still coming for him and only him.

“Lord Maul,” he corrects you in a growl you feel reverberate to your very bones and smiles wider, wilder when you echo him. Can’t help but dive back into you, this time catching your mouth with his own, wanting the taste of your screams. He’s fucking his hand into you so hard, he can almost feel it in a member he no longer has. Hates the muted quality of his lust, his passion, as much as he feels comforted by it. He has control, but at what price? It is not worthy of a Sith, this fear of his own hunger and he finds himself furiously taking it out on the already abused skin of your neck, biting you again, getting another heavenly mouthful of your blood.

But this time you do cry out in pain, tense up beneath him and his reaction is instinctive and immediate. First to subdue you, and then to peer into your face, anxious for a second and then annoyed at his show of weakness. It’s like the air’s been punched out of him, the moment he lays eyes on you: smeared with blood and yet still panting and reaching for him. You nudge something deep inside him, the memory of all the dead things he’d desired and had to forgo. Kilindi in her pool of blood. Eldra. Sidious’s women… and it’s nauseating how much it makes him want you. Agony, the sith masters of old had said, would free him. He does not know it now, face hiding in the crook of your neck, he does not know what he would do with freedom.

Savage is on you so fast it’s dizzying, ready to rip his brother from your arms, would have in fact ripped those arms off your body if only you hadn’t looked at him. Pleading. Scared. Still covered in blood and none of it Maul’s, for all he’s the one whimpering like a rancor just gored him. You are terrified but you don’t let him go, refuse even to let Savage pry your fingers off his back and he doesn’t know what to do when there’s no wound to tend to, no hurt to soothe, no enemy to kill. Just pain.

When a Nightbrother gets like this, there’s very little to be done, he’d been told. But you don’t know that and Savage has tried very hard to forget. When Savage had found Maul, gibbering in agony in Lotho Minor, he hates that his first thought had been to put him down, put an end to his suffering, to do what he should have done ages ago. But Savage cannot, not then and not now. Savage could not do it to Feral when they had been young and alone and too stupid to be afraid, and he will fight the ichor in his very veins to stop himself from doing it again.

Because Savage is not like Maul… or like you. He does not know how to endure, how to put things back together after they’re broken. There are things Savage will never come back from, will never crawl out of, will never survive. He has failed already, as a Nightbrother in trying to keep one brother from the Sisters and another from you. Failed just by trying and failed in the attempt. He will not survive this, but Maul will. Maul will survive you and Savage will make sure he will. If he has to let you hold Maul, let you soothe him, let you speak softly and constantly to him while he murmurs always remember, always remember, then he will. If he has to endure the stench of your arousal and your fear and your love, then he will. And he will put the bacta on your shredded thighs and help you hold Maul together and try not to hate the sight of your tears and try not to love when you hand him his brother to hold, the three of you together, nestled against each other, making sure Maul survives.

#darth maul x reader #savage opress x reader #darth maul smut #savage opress smut #star wars #star wars fanfiction #tw: blood #tw: noncon #no noncon happening here but Savage has some errrrm interesting thots re sex with the womenfolk #he’s still not exactly fucking but he’s getting there I think

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atotalmess-lol · 1 year ago

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C'est pas vrai.

Spider-person!Reader x Miguel O'Hara.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, no comfort.

Author's Note: I love to torture myself with angst of my comfort characters. Anywhoosies, enjoy ❤︎

— — —

You're The Spider, the Spiderman variant of your timeline. You protect your home city from harms way and insure that people are kept safe.

Though often times, some people slip through the cracks and crevasses of your hands. You can't save everyone, but you try.

Some of those that have slipped from your grasp happened to be those you love. You've lost a lot of people; friends, family and most recently a lover. Their death pained you to the point where you dreaded to even look at your suit. You felt as if their death was your fault, especially when you found them, dying yet still alive. They died in your arms. You cried a lot. You can't save everyone, but you tried.

Weeks passed and you slipped into your suit once again. Though guilt rattled around in your body, the wind flowing around you was, soothing in a way as you swung from building to building.

Sprinting parallel to the ground across glass pains of a tall building, you leaped once you reached the edge, spinning a web to the next building you— wait, what was that?

You stuck to the side of another building, scanning the ground below, you retraced your steps. Confusion and curiosity popping up when you saw.. Orange? It's hue reflecting off the walls in between two buildings.

You stared, stuck to that building for moments as you fought yourself, desperately wanting to know what it was that was going on, what's causing that orange light? Is someone in trouble? But another side of you felt as if you would be too weak to quell whatever situation you would face. This was your first time in your suit after weeks of grieving.

You wish you chose the ladder.

You let yourself drop, landing on a rooftop you started to run, jumping over edges and ledges as you started to see the light briger.

You should've just went home.

You slowed down to a crawl when you heard voices. Peeking over the ledge you saw two people; one was wearing a white and black suit —similar to yours— their forearms pink with webbing accents. The other stood tall, much taller than the other person as he seemed to be lecturing them. He wore a suit similar to yours navy blue with red accents —from what you could see— across his back and shoulders. The orange light that reflected off him showed tiny patterns across his body, they looked like tiny circuits.

They two of them seemed different. Different from the many other people you interact with, different from the foes you defeated. 'They're not from here' you thought as you moved closer to the ground.

You felt both of their heads turn when you dropped to the asphalt, standing up straight you turned the corner. Taking cautious steps toward them.

"Who are you two?" You asked, eyes narrowed.

"Nothing you need to know." The man replied, curt and to the point. You could help but notice how rushed he sound as you froze for a moment, he sounded familiar.

"Then what's that?" You questioned, stiffening as you stood taller.

"Another thing you don't need to know." He crossed his arms. "You don't need to know anything, we were just leaving." The other person looked between you and the man several times, "Wait, what? Miguel weren't you-"

Your breath hitched. Your hands began to shake.

"Wait, Miguel?.. Miguel O'Hara..?" You asked, taking in a sharp breath.

The man turned his attention back to you. "Yes," no "is something wrong?" No, no, no.

You paused, stumbling backwards. This isn't real. Your bottom lip quivered. 'some sick joke.'

"No.." you shook your head "No, no you're not.." The both of them looked at you, confusion evident even in the expression of their masks.

"You died.." your legs began to wobble and your breath quickened.

He froze "What?" He took note of your shaking knees and trembling body.

You swallowed a thickly, throat burning. "You died, You're dead." Your head shook from side to side, "You were shot.. 5 weeks ago.. Miguel." Tears welled in your eyes, soaking the inside of your mask.

"I found you in that alley way..."

His stomach dropped, completely frozen in place.

"You died in my arms." Your voice broke.

"Miguel is dead.. Who are you..?"

— — —

Fin ❤︎

Sorry if anything doesn't make sense😭

#miguel x reader #miguel o hara #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara angst

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biribaa · 1 year ago

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Unfinished Boss/Blank Canvas x reader

Xe deserves love..........

TW/CW: Angst(P03 being a asshole)

This will be the last time P03 forgets to close a zip file correctly in his existence.

It was supposed to be a moment of peace, you were in the corridors of the factory, doing what he commanded. And even then, a voice hummed through the robot's circuits. P03 had no ears, and yet, he could hear that voice inside him somehow. It was not discovered how this boss managed to remain inside him with the file already closed, but oh how xe was annoying.

"I want to talk to them." Implored the voice coming from the zip file, echoing in what we can call P03's mind.

The face on his screen frowned in irritation. Maybe, P03 thought, if I ignore xem, xe'll give up.

"...Let me play with them, just one more time." Xe suggested. The voice came out almost as a whisper.

P03 looked at the exit of his room, which led to the corridors. Why are you taking so long?! Passed out on the way? The scrybe feels stupid wanting your company not to be alone with this thing.

"We've been through this over and over again. Don't be a fool. Why stop me?"

"Why I wouldn't?" P03 replied, almost letting out a grunt of rage.

"This has nothing to do with you..." argued the voice. And if you paid attention, maybe you could see that xer patience is not infinite either.

"Oh, it does. You will be bugging me for eternity because of that idiot." P03 spat.

"Don't you dare call them that..." Xem growled.

"And what are you going to do, huh?"

Silence.

The robot blinked, expecting some kind of revolt from the file, but it just hummed as a response to the silence. "That's what I thought." His bored face returns.

Was it that hard to check a broken camera? P03 was born knowing this but oh, how could he forget, you're a stupid gamer, that's why it takes so long.

However, P03 started to think about this friendship between the laziest boss he ever made and a dumb human like you... Did you even liked xem back? Sure, xe is the first you get into among the other uberbots, if not, at least the second one, but that means nothing... And what made this boss so obssesed over you? If you had something special, P03 would notice.

The worst part is how the boss cries like a baby just because of the lack of your presence–

"I want to tell them."

Here we go again.

P03 produced a sound that resembles a sigh, trying to prepare his patience for the flea that annoys him all the time.

"Tell them what."

"...That I love them..." Xe declared. The tone of voice sensitive and low, exactly like a whisper.

For a second, P03's digital eyes wided, only to then burst out laughing. His laughter echoes through the room, as if it were the best joke the machine has ever heard in his life.

In silence, this time with a slight depressive mood, xe was forced to hear the scrybe's laugh. What stops xem from having you by xer side? Xe is one of the best among other Uberbots, a saint even(which is ironic to say when we remember what Archivist is). Xe does xer job correctly. It's not fair.

"And I thought you were the least idiot of the rest." An extra laugh escaped, and P03 took the 'breath' back to speak. "This idea of 'love' will only hold you back from everything. It's useless. Believe me when I say that your situation is great compared to others." The robot returned to his straight posture with his usual expression. "And what makes you believe they like you too?"

"They come to me first, always me first..." The unfinished boss mumble, xer tone clearly more serious, colder.

"Pfft, please." P03 scoffs. "You're so stupid." He opens a small smile, even yet with irritated eyebrows.

"They tolerates me, unlike you. Have you seen how irritated they gets with you?"

"You're a big joke." The smile faded

"People at least like jokes, unlike you." Xe nagged. If the boss were able to show xer face in the screen, it would have a smug grin.

"Shut up."

"They clearly like me more-"

"Yeah, but I don't care!" The robot snaped. "You will never do stupid romantic things with them, you will never tell them. And maybe, if you continue being a pain in the ass, you will never talk to them again."

Both were silent, while P03 waited for some kind of annoying argument coming from the voice. Then, footsteps from the metallic floor could be heard echoing from the hallways, this is the first time P03 is glad to see you.

"...I hate you."

"Whatever."

#inscryption x reader #unfinished boss x reader #blank canvas x reader #x reader #canon x reader #reader insert #robot x reader #robot x human

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myloveforhergoeson · 1 year ago

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That's All She Wrote - Chapter 23

Chapter index

Find me on wattpad and ao3!

Chapter 23: Morning Glory (2.4) ~ 13k

The same person who invented Mondays, homework, and mayonnaise invented ending a second-first date, Roxy thought, walking through the front doors of the Palm Woods, hand in hand with James.

She had done everything in her power to slow down time once the actors took their final bows - Taking the long way home from the theater, pretending like the Pontiac had almost run out of gas so they had to stop at a gas station for slushies, kissing her date more than a few times in the dark Palm Woods parking lot - but still, the night had to come to an end, even as she reluctantly dragged her feet along the ancient hotel carpet.

Though she pretty sure James had caught on, seeing as he wasn’t walking all that fast either, and that made her feel better but still didn’t change the reality that all good things must come to an end.

Once they reached the theater, they inadvertently run into a pair of siblings who struck out at the box office, so they happily passed off their extra tickets before making their way to their balcony seats.

American Idiot had been phenomenal, a harrowing tale filled with all her favorite songs from the Green Day album of the same name and a couple of twists and turns she hadn’t been expecting. Roxy even cried at the end, which would have been embarrassing under any other circumstances, but James simply wrapped his arm around her and let her silently weep on his shoulder until she was ready to leave the darkness of the theater.

Live music could be so inspiring.

Throughout the night, he had told her a thousand different times how beautiful she looked in her thematically red and black outfit, held her bag patiently when she ran to the bathroom to fix her makeup after the show, and graciously paid for her gas tank and cherry slushie.

Everything had been perfect, but now they were standing at the door to 2-H and Roxy was fiddling with her keys trying to stall for even a few precious seconds longer.

“I had a great time tonight,” James shared, watching her hands intently as she flipped a few of the keys around the ring, the cheesy I Heart L.A. keychain clamoring the loudest. “But I’ve got to admit this is a really awkward way to drop you off.”

“Right? Like, how are we even supposed to end this?”

Hands gently grabbing her waist to pull her closer, James pressed a slow kiss to Roxy’s lips before mumbling, “Like any other date, I guess… Call me?”

All she could manage was a nod in response, looking up at him. It didn’t matter how much he had kissed her over the last few days of their relationship, her brain still managed to short-circuit every single time.

As her boyfriend made his way over to 2-J with a final wave, she quickly pulled out her phone.

Buzz buzz

Hearing his small exhale of a chuckle as he removed his phone from his pocket and checked the caller ID, Roxy bit into her lip when he pressed the accept call button.

“When can I see you again?” She giggled through the microphone as she watched his back, barely hearing her own voice come through the receiver on his phone a few paces down.

James’ reply took a moment as cradled the phone between his shoulder and ear while he slid his key into 2-J’s lock. “Tomorrow morning if I’m lucky.”

“You’re not that lucky,” His assistant shot back before she could stop herself, closing and locking the door to 2-H once she was inside.

“Wait!” She could practically hear his cheeks flush. “I didn’t mean-”

“Goodnight, James. Thanks for showing me a good time.”

“My pleasure, Rox. Goodnight.”

As she hung up the phone, a grin plastered across her face, her finger hovered over Jo’s contact information, and for a moment she wondered if she should call her to dish out all the juicy details of her night out. Regardless of what she told the actress, it would eventually end up making its way to Camille, and as selfish as it was, Roxy didn’t want her to know anything about her perfect date. Besides, to tell Jo and ask that she would exclude it from their other friend was just cruel, so she sighed and locked her phone.

I’ll just tell someone in the morning.

That didn’t dispel the feeling of sadness deflating her chest as she shuffled into her bedroom, wishing Camille would come to speak with her about everything that had gone down between her and James. The actress had managed to work it out with Logan, though they were trying their “Just Friends” relationship and miserably failing, but for some reason, she was avoiding bringing the subject up to Roxy.

Getting ready for her date tonight without Jo and Camille just felt wrong.

It bothered her beyond belief, but she was a stubborn girl - She had just waited months for the boy she liked to ask her out based on a non-important conversation they had within the first two months of knowing each other. If Camille was interested in playing the long game, Roxy had no trouble willing to wait her out.

***

Buzz buzz

A few hours later, after the most sleepless night of Roxy’s life, as she kept replaying her date with James over and over again in her head, she received a phone call around 3 a.m. according to her bedside clock.

Electing to ignore it, she rolled over to the other side of her bed, snuggling into her covers and giant stuffy puppy, letting it buzz a few more times before finally deciding to try and drift off to sleep.

The best part about the night, she decided, was how openly physical they could be with each other. Going from friends to partners certainly had it’s merits - including a long established comfort level with the boy who just couldn’t keep his hands off of her. There was no awkward instances of her going for the handshake while he went for the hug or mental debate over kissing at the front door… Everything was just perfect.

Just as she was on the verge of slumber, pretending it was James’ arms wrapped around her and not her plush duvet, her phone rang again and the girl ducked under her pillow to escape the annoying sound.

She knew that because someone had called twice, it was probably important information, and due to the lateness of the hour, she couldn’t imagine that the news was good.

That thought raked a bit of panic into her heart, uncomfortably skipping a few beats as she finally reached over to her nightstand and pulled her phone off the charger.

Buzz buzz

Incoming Call: Kelly Wainwright

Pressing accept, her “Hello?” came out a bit more strained than she had anticipated.

“Good morning!” Chipper as ever, the talent scout’s voice carried through the phone. “Gustavo landed us a spot on the local news. I need you to get the boys to the station by 5 a.m.”

Roxy groaned, rolling over so her phone was perfectly balanced on her cheek. “Kelly…”

“Think about it! Millions of people watch the L.A. morning news! It’s a great exposure opportunity.”

“As true as that is, couldn’t you have given us a little warning?”

A few waves of laughter rolled through the receiver. “If we don’t pick the slot up someone else will. Now come on! I’ll call to wake the boys if it makes it easier - We just need your shining faces in the studio at 5.”

“You’ve got it.” The assistant grumbled, fumbling onto her back and staring up at the bits of moonlight bleeding into her ceiling. “Studio. Boys. 5 a.m… Do I need my guitar?”

“Nope. We just need you on assistant duty today. Gustavo will bring the music track from the studio.”

With a click, the line went dead, leaving the girl alone in silence as she decided between dressing in a camera-ready outfit or her oldest, comfiest tracksuit.

I just never know with those boys, She thought, rolling out of bed and opening her closet, digging out a nice, long skirt and top. So, dress my best… Just in case.

***

“Can you believe this?” Carlos cried through a stifled yawn, prancing around the set Gustavo and Kelly had managed to ship to the news studio from Rocque Records.

The same backdrop they had used on tour - A smooth, red velvet curtain behind a gigantic light-up “Big Time Rush” sign and their signature swirl logo splashed across the linoleum floor - had been set up at the station long before the teens, Katie, and Mrs. Knight had even arrived.

Lazily swinging his hand laced through his assistant’s back and forth as he took in the set, James exclaimed, “We’re performing on live TV!” while the girl sent a quick text message to her dad to see if he could potentially tune into the broadcast.

“You say that like it’s more impressive than a nationwide tour…” Roxy trailed off, slipping her phone back into her backpack and taking in all the behind-the-scenes crew hustling around them, getting set up for the beginning of the program.

She still had yet to tell her father she and James were seeing each other, but that would be a problem to solve at a far later time.

“Can you believe it’s 5 a.m.?” Logan cut in, who had the entire ride there been more than vocal about his disdain for the early hour.

Kendall had it the worst, however, towing his half-asleep mother through the building to their green room. It seemed as though early rising wasn’t a genetic trait the eldest of the Knight Family possessed. “Why do early morning shows have to shoot so early in the morning?”

Gently reaching up to tap his mother on the shoulder, Katie stopped him by letting out a sharp, “Uh, uh! Don’t wake her! She hasn’t had her eight hours of sleep yet,” despite her nose being buried in her DS game.

“Like any of us have,” The assistant whined, leaning into James’ side for support as the group stopped walking in the middle of the set. “But this is a good thing for us. Lots of exposure and whatnot.”

She said that more for herself than the band. It had been nearly nine months since her last 2 a.m. to 6 a.m. radio show, so she was no stranger to being up so early in the morning, but since coming to L.A., her 9 to 5 job sleep schedule had gotten her body back into a traditional rhythm. The early hour was hitting her hard, but she was doing her best to keep morale high so her band could put on the best performance they could.

“Big Time Rush! Huge fan!” From their left, a woman dressed in a black power suit approached the group, a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other. Her black glasses matched the darkness of her outfit and the headset attached to her ear suggested she was someone essential to the morning production team. Behind her trailed another, taller woman, carrying a similar clipboard. “I’m Jane Kennedy, the producer, and welcome to A.M. L.A. Los Angeles’ number one morning show. Come on!”

So cheerful despite the time of day, her personality shone as bright as the sun as she beckoned the group over to the set with a few giggles.

Following her, everyone made their way over to the part of the set containing the news anchor desk, where a man in a charcoal suit was having his hair and makeup done while sipping from a cup of coffee. All around them, staff members whizzed by with different pieces of camera equipment and cue cards, ready to start production at a moment’s notice.

“That’s L.A.’s number one morning host, Miles Bainbridge, warming up L.A.’s number one teleprompter…”

Reading from the screen as his hair was being brushed back, Miles proclaimed, “No, I’m pretty sure Los Angeles is just one word.”

His comment made the assistant chuckle a bit as she thought he was trying to liven up the groggy crew with a joke, but she quickly realized he had meant it as Jane hissed, “This way!” and ushered the group in a new direction.

“And this is the green room!” She shared, walking into a well-lit room toward the back of the studio. It was quite spacious and featured an array of snacks, drinks, and pop culture magazines Roxy couldn’t wait to get her hands on. “You can relax, eat, and meet our other guests like actor environmentalist Ed Begley Jr.”

Dragging his girlfriend over to the refreshments table, along with the rest of the band, James and the boys were quick to break into the provided goodies.

Seeing Ed Begley Jr. unnerved the assistant a bit, seeing as the last time he had been involved in their lives, Griffin had shipped them back to Minnesota without a second thought in favor of the actor environmentalist reading out children’s books. However, if that hadn’t happened, she might not have fully realized her feelings toward James, so she overlooked his presence for now and politely returned the man’s wave.

“Hey, everyone, I’m here to promote my new line of environmentally friendly-”

“Keep it fresh for the show, Ed!” Jane cut him off just as he held up an “environmentally friendly” saw.

Surprised they let him in here with that…

“Anyway,” The woman continued, “We are so excited to have BTR at A.M. L.A., and I just know that our 3 million viewers will be excited too!”

As the production assistant following Jane around from before entered the room and whispered something to her boss, Logan was already three bites deep in a bagel sandwich, Carlos had grabbed a bowl of Fruit Smackers, Kendall - still deliriously tired - held a pitcher of orange juice, and James was crunching down on some biscotti as he held the container out to Roxy.

Everyone was comfortable in the inviting space A.M. L.A. had created, even Katie and Mrs. Knight; As the younger girl continued playing her game her mother was fast asleep on the couch beside her.

In true boy band style, Kendall flashed her his winning smile, “Well, we are very excited to be here.”

Roxy watched, picking some biscotti from the container, as Jane’s eyes flicked over the schedule, darkening.

“Yeah, the show’s running long.” Her entire demeanor changed unexpectedly, like a sudden rainstorm on a perfectly cloudless day. “You guys are cut. Wake up Mommy and get out!”

“Well… That was rude,” The girl mumbled, mouth half full right as the women exited the room. “Aren’t Gustavo and Kelly supposed to be here by now to deal with things like this?”

Nodding in agreement, Logan let his bagel haphazardly fall to the floor.

“What just happened?” Kendall asked, turning to his friends in panic. The question was more rhetorical than anything, but he was just sleepy enough that his assistant couldn’t tell if he needed the clarification or not.

Piping up from the couch, Ed shared, “The official term is you got bumped.”

Yeah, he’s definitely our bad luck charm…

Roxy was really starting to dislike the guy despite his admirable dedication to reducing his carbon footprint.

“Leave me out of this!” Katie said from beside the actor environmentalist even though no one had brought her into it. “I'm on level 12 of ‘Castle Bashers,’ and I have to get my four knights to the ring of fire.”

It only took a few moments for Roxy’s friends to grab her wrist and drag her out of the green room with them, no doubt on their way to find the cranky producer and see if anything could be done about their place on the show. There was almost no doubt that if they weren’t able to retain their spot, Gustavo would find some way to blame the five for such a missed opportunity. Playing a tour across the United States had been great exposure, but the combined number of audience ticket sales didn’t even total close to three million.

After a few seconds of chasing, the five were finally able to stop Jane in the hallway with a chorus of, “Wait, wait, wait, wait!”

“What do you mean ‘cut?’” Logan asked, trying to play it as dumb as possible. Maybe if the woman had to explain it, she’d feel bad and let them play anyway.

Holding up a long schedule with the day’s date at the top of the page, Jane waved it around a few times. “It means I have to cut time from my show, and you were it.”

“But being on live TV is number seven on my list of things to do before I’m 20!” Shared James, pulling nervously on the tie he had fashioned around the collar of his button-up for his televised debut.

Sticking out her bottom lip, Roxy placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “We’ll figure it out! Plus, you’ve still got three whole years!”

That seemed to cheer the boy up a bit, until Logan chuckled a bit and jabbed a thumb in James’ direction, “You don’t have a list…”

Chuckling right back, the long-haired boy whipped a small notebook out of his back pocket. “Oh, I have a list!”

“Look, you just said that you were excited to have us!” Carlos cut in, bringing their conversation back on track as he addressed the woman.

Her response was simple: “I’m a producer. I lie. And my show is four minutes too long.”

Taking a few steps forward, she squished her schedule not-so-nicely into Logan’s chest.

“And L.A. needs their traffic, weather, stock reports, celebrity interviews, and cooking tips. What they don’t need to see is a stupid boy band singing their stupid pop songs.”

James and Roxy both gasped at her words for very similar reasons.

“All due respect, Ms. Kennedy, but don’t you think you could combine the performance with the celebrity interview portion? Members of boy bands are celebrities after all… Like Justin Timberlake!” The assistant tried before the producer let out a shrill, dry, laugh.

Before the assistant could say something she’d regret at Jane’s abrasive response, Logan hopped in with, “‘Vocal group’ is a term that could also be used.”

“So is, ‘You were cut from my show, so get off my set!’” Jane yelled before turning around and storming out of the hallway.

If she really wanted us gone she could have at least tried being kinder.

Plucking the schedule out of his friend’s hands, Kendall squinted in the producer’s direction. “I did not get up at 4 a.m. to be treated like this.”

“Kelly called you at 4?” His assistant repeated, shooting him some nasty side-eye.

Ignoring Roxy’s complaint comment, the rest of the band murmured their agreement with the frontman. Leaning back into James, she whispered a few curses under her breath about her more than obvious eye bags before listening into the boys’ plan.

Reading over the schedule in front of them, Logan mused a moment before asking, “Rox, can I borrow a pen?”

It didn’t take her long to dig around in her mini backpack to find her favorite red pen and hand it off the the awaiting boy.

His markups of the schedule reminded her a lot of the nonsensical scribbling she did in her notebook to try and find the perfect order for her song lyrics. Arrows were drawn from section to section, whittling down time here and there as the sets were changed to be closer to one another, a few symbols in the margins denoted sections that were far longer than they needed to be - like Ed’s interview.

In a few moments, he had done all the necessary calculations in his head to shave the time off the show and get Big Time Rush back on the air.

Then, of course, Roxy was once again dragged around the studio to find Jane. Since the show was close to starting soon, it didn’t take long for Carlos to spot her by the newsroom set.

All at once, the five stormed the podium she was standing by, giving her the pitch they hadn’t practiced at all to keep them on the show.

“So, um, we looked at the schedule…” Kendall shared, gesturing to Logan who was eager to share his corrections.

“...And if you trim just a little time from the weather, the chef dude’s weekend recipe, the market update, and cut just one Hollywood minute…”

“...You’ll have time for Big Time Rush!” Carlos finished, taking the schedule she had drafted up on her stand and replacing it with the one Logan had edited.

Pulling out his list from his pocket once more and holding it out to Jane, James was quick to add, “And I can check ‘live TV face time’ off my list.”

“And Big Time Rush gains three million new fans from L.A.’s number one morning show!” The assistant tacked on, attempting to butter up the producer just in case she wasn’t already convinced.

Taking the schedule from Carlos’ hands, Jane read it over for a few seconds. “This is good. No, this- this works. I think I owe you guys an apology. Follow me!”

“Sweet!” Carlos cried, trailing after the woman as she walked off.

Soon the other four were right behind him as Jane continued to take in the corrections. “I’m gonna tell the director to make these changes right now. But, I need you guys to wait in our special waiting room.”

Stopping in front of a large, cream-colored door labeled, “Special Waiting Room” the producer pointed to her left.

Immediately, the four boys were rushing toward the handle to push it open, practically breaking it off its hinges to get inside.

Unfortunately for Jane, Roxy was quite suspicious of specifically labeled rooms after their incident at the Music Box Theater the night of their first concert. As Logan, Kendall, and Carlos barrelled through the door, James caught wind of her hesitation and stopped in front of her to make sure she was okay. Carefully running a hand down her arm, he threaded his fingers between hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze. With his other hand, he held the door open, which proved to be a fatal mistake as the woman roughly shoved the assistant forward in an attempt to get her off the set.

With force similar to that her friends had used to run through the door, Roxy was sent hurtling into James’ arms as he stumbled backward out of the studio into the room Jane had pushed them into. Only, once the two were able to catch their bearings, they realized it wasn’t even a room at all - It was the back alley of the studio lot.

“Get out of my face, you stupid singing teens!” Jane called over the intercom and the distinct sound of a lock emanated from the metal door.

Arms still wrapped around her boyfriend, Roxy roughly kicked the door with the flat of her foot, “I don’t even sing, you hag!”

Heart fluttering, be it from her ire or her cheek pressed to James’ chest, she thought of some much meaner things to say until Kendall and the boys began to devise a plan to get back inside.

“Of course, you realize…” He started.

“This means war!” The other band members chorused, as if rehearsed.

It didn’t take long for Kendall to whip out his phone and shoot a message to Katie, who was still miraculously in the green room with her mother and Ed Begley Jr, to let her know to come get them as soon as possible.

Creaking door hinges from behind the five let them know she had made her way to the studio’s back entrance, and the young girl soon emerged with her head still buried in her DS game. “I thought I told you to leave me out of this! I have to defeat the she-beast before she destroys the dwarf people!”

None of the teens really registered what she meant, but they all let out a smattering of “thank you!” and “won’t happen again!’ to appease her.

Now, their challenge was two-fold: Get themselves onto A.M. L.A. and avoid being seen by the wicked producer. A challenge that felt nearly impossible.

Thankfully, Jane was busy rushing from set to set, getting everyone on her crew ready for the show to begin instead of looking for five nosy teenagers barging back onto her studio.

They stuck close to the outer walls of the studio, which were quite dark from the contrast of the bright, white lights being used to illuminate the sets on the opposite side of the building. Since most of the unnecessary tools of production had been pushed away from where the cameras were pointing, they also had the advantage of nearly full body coverage as they slunk past a few clothing and prop racks.

Noticing too late that her friends had all snatched matching black bandanas and sunglasses from their makeshift cover, Roxy rolled her eyes as Kendall whispered, “Okay, operation ‘Cut Out Time From A.M. L.A. So Big Time Rush Can Perform On Live TV’ is underway.”

“That’s a really long operation name!” Logan hissed from the other side of the pack.

“Ooh!” Cooed Carlos, “How about something cool like ‘Operation Winter Blitz.’”

“It’s catcher, but it’s not winter.”

James’ words were true, but they mostly dragged Roxy’s attention to the mysterious vibe the sunglasses and dark bandana combo were giving him. Without thinking, her hand snaked around his arm as she unabashedly stared him down. “You look really good right now.”

“I look really good all the time.” He leaned down to whisper into her hair before pressing his lips to her temple. “But thank you.”

Kendall, Carlos, and Logan audibly groaned, not bothering to hide their annoyance at the couple.

“Just move out!” The frontman finally commanded before the pair could do anything else to gross him out.

Still continuing along the wall, the group found a supply closet large enough to house all of them, so for now that served as their cover.

On the way in, Logan swiped one of the laptops that controlled the teleprompter for the news segment of the show, which he waved back and forth to show off to his friends with a wicked smile.

“I think I’ve figured out the first part of our plan.” The boy shared, squatting down and balancing the computer on his thighs as he easily accessed the script for the day’s show. “We just need someone to run this chord into the prompter.”

For a moment, there was silence as the boys looked at each other before their eyes landed on their assistant.

Wildly shaking her head, she didn’t even want to dignify them with a response but threw out an irrefutable argument: “I’m not wearing stealth gear like the rest of you.”

Judging from their grumbles of disappointment, they really couldn’t argue with her on that point, and soon made their decision with a game of rock paper scissors.

This wasn’t a common occurrence among the boys, they were pretty good about settling their scores on their own, but when necessary, they’d square up to each other as they held one hand flat and one in a fist above it.

As far as she could gather, James always lost their rock, paper, scissors games, because he was very fond of throwing scissors first. If that was easy for her to notice in the time she had known them, she was sure the other three had caught on years earlier.

To her credit, she was going to warn him, but when he swept a hand through his hair and shot a wink in her direction before joining the small square his friends had formed, she had completely forgotten what she was going to say.

So, James lost.

Not long after, he took the connecting blue cable between his teeth and dropped to the floor, crawling out of the closet, closer and closer to the teleprompter across the studio as stealthily as he could.

While his friends watched from a small crack in the closet door, they lost sight of him for a moment as he ducked behind a large crate, but knew he had completed his task when news anchor, Miles Bainbridge began his monologue.

“Good morning, Los Angeles!”

With a strong pop of his knuckles, Logan flopped down to the floor again, “We’re in! The teleprompter is ours!”

Joining him on the ground, Roxy and Kendall peered over the schedule again to try and find some time to shave out of any of the segments while Carlos clapped a reassuring hand on his buddy’s shoulder as they figured out what to write.

“Give us a good intro!” Carlos advised, and Logan’s fingers shot off, flying across the keyboard.

He’d make a good guitar player… Roxy absentmindedly thought as James made his way back into the room and shuffled over to sit beside her.

Miles’ voice was just loud enough to hear, even behind the door as the typing sounds from the keyboard continued. “Also joining us live in the studio, celebrity environmentalist Ed Begley Jr., and a musical performance by the greatest band in the history of the world, Big Time Rush!”

Roxy’s “Don’t you think that’s overkill?” fell on deaf ears as James pulled his list out of his back pocket and crossed one of the items off.

“Being the greatest band in the history of the world? Check!”

As someone who appreciated a special, private place to write down one’s thoughts and feelings, the assistant refrained from peeking at the other things he had written down - even if she wanted to know very, very badly all the things James wanted to do before he turned twenty years old.

Be a ‘Cuda model… Go to a red carpet movie premier… Get a driver’s license… He’ll tell me one day. She thought, trying to get into his head before she thought about a few of her own aspirations.

Like her boyfriend, she pulled her pen out of her bag fully intending to write them all down on the back cover of her journal, but Kendall nudged her shoulder, “Time to shave some time off morning update!”

Knocking her out of her thoughts, she made an offhand comment to speed up the rate at which the words were being shown to the anchor, and Logan’s fingers danced across the keys once more.

When that wasn’t enough, Kendall advised, “Faster!” a few more times, until the white words on the black background went by in such a blur, it was actually impressive that Miles was able to keep up with everything. From behind the door, they could hear his voice grow speedier and speedier with every passing line.

And their plan had worked, taking the five-minute news update into a segment nearly a quarter of its length, and might have been even shorter had they not heard the distinct bang! of a heed shoe on hardwood breaking down the entrance to the closet.

Blue chord in hand, Jane stood in the doorway, chest heaving as she looked down at the five teens who let out a few involuntary screams of their own. She was quite the scary lady.

“Hey, there… you.” The frontman tried, but his words only further pissed the producer off as she aggressively tugged on the cable and disconnected it from Logan’s stolen laptop.

From the studio set behind her, they could all hear the news anchor take a long breath, before resuming his updates as usual.

Taking a step forward, James flashed a sparkling smile to try and calm her down. “Great news!”

“We shaved a whole minute off your show,” Roxy shared, pointing to the schedule in the blond’s hands.

“De nada!” Added the helmet wearer, waving his hand nonchalantly, as if they had done something kind for Jane, like getting her a nice bouquet of flowers.

In return, she whipped out a walkie-talkie from her back pocket and called for security, lifeless eyes never leaving the teens in front of her.

Jane’s cold stare was enough to make Roxy feel like her own skin was slowly crawling, chills radiating down her spine. The five were practically frozen with fear until Logan astutely declared, “We should run.”

“Right!” Cried Carlos, as he ducked and ran Jane’s way helmet first.

He was an excellent battering ram, charging nearly straight into her before she managed to dive out of the way at the last second. As a result, he had cleared a very nice pathway, which the other four were glad to run through.

Always so much running! Their assistant silently reflected, moving as fast as her legs would carry her through the studio. At least James holds my hand instead of my wrist.

Security was hot on their tails, ugly yellow jackets, nightsticks, and all. Roxy dreaded the thought of what they might do if they managed to their hands on her - she didn’t have a great track record with being physically removed from places. Just the thought of it made her heart pound in fear, enough to stumble over her own feet a bit, but her friends behind her managed to keep her steady as they continued snaking through the winding hallways of A.M. L.A.

After a few rights, a few lefts, and a straight shot hallway, the band and their assistant managed to shake their followers for a moment and took a second to pause in front of a large, green screen and catch their breath. The boys shed their silly stealth gear, while Roxy bent over, hands resting on her knees as she greedily gulped as much air as she could possibly manage into her lungs.

It wasn’t fair her friends were both taller and more athletic than her and then demanded she keep up with them.

“And the traffic is backed up on the 134 and it continues to bleed to the 101… and the… congestion?”

Someone’s voice trailing off from another part of the room alerted them to the fact their resting place was not so secret. In fact, it was the screen the news anchor had been attempting to give his report on. A moment later they heard a distinct, “Get them!” from one of the security guards and once again the chase was on.

There was another clear pathway that led them away from the guards but landed them right in front of the poor traffic reporter who found himself unexpectedly mowed down by a group of strangers during his airtime.

Roxy’s sheepish “Sorry!” as she accidentally stepped on one of the flaps of his suit jacket didn’t make up for the trampling, but it would have to do for now.

Once again, the teens were running through the never-ending back hallways of the studio, and when she was brave enough to look behind her to check on Logan and Carlos, Roxy noticed a third guard had joined the mix.

Two guards probably couldn’t restrain all of them, but three? She wasn’t interested in finding out.

Legs feeling as though they would turn into jelly at any moment now, the assistant was reminded of the day she met the boys of Big Time Rush. They had found themselves in a similar situation, trying to fend off two security guards who had caught Kendall in their grasp. That was a fight the five had won until the police showed up at the entrance of the theater to physically restrain her and her friends.

That was the first and last time I’ll ever be in handcuffs. The assistant promised herself before a newfound burst of energy wedged its way into her chest, squeezing James’ hand in hers just a bit tighter.

Toward the end of the hallway, Kendall reached a door which he quickly threw open and the rest of his friends piled in after him. Managing to wedge the door shut, the five of them pressed their backs against it in order to keep any unwanted intruders out until Carlos managed to throw a nervous hand out and flip the lock.

So focused on the door behind them, no one recognized that there was a door in front of them until it slowly creaked open to reveal a set of three new guards headed their way.

Surrounded on all sides, the teens had nowhere left to run.

“We got the perps.” The guard in the middle spoke into his walkie-talkie, presumably to Jane, eyes never leaving the offenders he had been sent out to capture. “Are we authorized to use force?”

Knees knocking together so hard they were practically rattling, the assistant didn’t even take notice of her friends taking one step forward to keep her out of the tussle as best they could.

After a moment that felt closer to eternity, Jane’s voice menacingly radiated out of the speaker. “Absolutely.”

Whether it was a stalling tactic, or James was simply terrified, he pulled his list out of his back pocket once more. His shaking fingers turned a few pages as he thought aloud, “Get beat up by security guards? Nope, not on my list!”

Whatever his plan was hadn’t worked and the security guards grew nearer, happily showing off their solid nightsticks as they smacked them up and down in their palms.

“Logan. Options. Now!” Roxy heard Kendall beg, though her primary focus was on getting her heart rate under control and not passing out from sheer terror.

The boy’s words came out shaky, panicked even, “Well, there’s five of us and just three of them, but they’re huge, so… Scream?”

Logan’s suggestion felt just right, and his four friends followed suit and began howling their heads off.

It was shocking enough to the security guards to hear five people wailing all at once, but after a moment their bodies began violently convulsing as if they were caught up in a terrifying exorcism movie.

Stopping his screaming to hesitantly ask, “It’s working?” Carlos cocked his head to the side.

Falling forward, the security guards face-planted in front of the teens they had been hunting down to reveal Katie, two tasers in her hands she had fired directly into their backs.

Oh my God…

“Katie?”

“Thanks!” She cried sarcastically before anyone was able to say anything else, pulling her DS game back out. Someone less than five feet tall in a pink blouse and Converse had never been more intimidating. “I was just about to beat the castle guards so I could get to the final boss level.”

There was a small mumble of “Sorry” among the five, mostly because they were afraid if they didn’t she’d tase them.

Where did she even find those? The assistant wondered as the young girl began to walk away like she hadn’t just taken out three grown men with two incredibly dangerous weapons.

“Oh, Katie!” Her brother called out, causing the girl to whip back around with an angry glare. “Could you keep Mom asleep? She doesn’t need to see any of this, right?”

A response came in the form of an eye roll as she trailed back off in the way she had come.

No choice but to follow her, considering they didn’t want to figure out if the other guards were still waiting behind the locked door, Big Time Rush and their assistant soon found themselves back in the main A.M. L.A. studio.

The focus of the show had shifted away from the news and traffic reports and was now setting up for the celebrity interview portion. Miles and Ed stood on the opposite side of the room behind a table decorated with all the environmentally friendly products the actor had brought to showcase during his time on the show.

Since their plan of sticking to the darker outer walls had worked so well last time, the group quickly moved around the room to the cover of three large clothing racks.

“I could’ve sworn I brought my solar-powered tasers…” Ed trailed off, patting the sides of his hips absentmindedly.

Ah.

In the time it had taken the assistant to register how close they were to Jane and try to formulate a plan to get some more time for her band, her friends had, for some reason, helped themselves to the costumes on the rack they were using for cover.

“Are you serious?” She balked, half-impressed they had changed so quickly and half-angry they were focused on other, sillier things than getting on the morning show.

Grinning back at her was Kendall, dressed like Abraham Lincoln, Carlos, dressed in a similar uniform to his policeman father, Logan, headdress making him look like Egyptian royalty, and James, dressed in a less than fashionable fisherman hat.

How does he manage to look good in everything-

Before any of them said anything, her boyfriend reached out and plopped a bedazzled tiara on her head and pressed a quick kiss to her lips.

“Kiss a princess! Check!” He bragged, checking something off on his notepad list - ignoring the grips of objection from the rest of the three and the slacking of Roxy’s jaw.

Suddenly, the writer began to understand the whole dress-up thing as a bit of heat crept up her neck. Had there been a beautiful pink ballgown out on the rack, she’d do everything in her power to change into it if it meant he’d keep kissing her.

“Focus please!” Carlos begged, though it was hard to take him seriously in his fake mustache and new, oversized cop helmet. Pointing toward the evil producer, the five parted many of the hangers and poked their heads through the open slots to get a better view of the studio in front of them. “We got to cut three more minutes from the show to perform.”

“Then operation ‘We Love Ed Begley Jr., But We Have to Cut His Segment Short to Perform’ is underway!” Abe Lincoln shared, pumping his fist into the air at the ridiculous title he had come up with.

From the bottom of the rack, Logan let out a bit of protest. “Next time, I’m in charge of operation naming!”

At the top of the rack, James nudged his girlfriend with his elbow, a cheeky grin spreading on his lips before reaching down and smacking Logan’s cheek.

“Ow!” The boy cried, squeezing his eyes shut as he realized how loud his expression had been. “What’d you do that for?”

“Slap a pharaoh! Check!”

Roxy had a lot of questions about that one, but she wasn’t able to ask any before Kendall called, “Move out!”

Had any of them actually discussed the operation beforehand, she might know where she was supposed to have moved out too, but for now, she followed James as he climbed up an exposed staircase toward the edge of the studio walls.

They had a good vantage point from there, able to see and hear everyone on the floor below - including their hidden friends.

In front of the podium where Jane stood, a man counted backward from five, and just like that the show was back from commercial. On a new set, Miles and Ed stood in front of the camera for their interview on the products the actor environmentalist had designed in order to keep daily carbon emissions low.

The first in his long line of products was a “Wind-Powered Spinning Tie Rack.” Why anyone would need that was beyond Roxy, but James took that as his cue to aim and cast the fishing line onto the table below. Not only was his aim spot on, hitting the mark on his first try, but the hook was also strong enough to catch one of the product’s edges and be dragged upward as he turned the small hand crank over and over again.

“James, that was incredible!” Roxy praised, reaching over the railing to pull the item off the line and onto the stairs with them. “Where did you learn how to do that?”

Had it not been for the darkness of the outer edges of the studio, she might have seen how red his cheeks grew at her amazement. “My dad liked to fish.”

There was something off about the way he said that, as if there was a bit more to the statement than he was letting on, but now certainly wasn’t the time to pry. Instead, the writer nodded, “So does mine! He took me with him once when I was little, but I cried when I learned he used live worms as bait.”

“Aww,” He voiced sympathetically, before taking his pointer finger and wiggling it around right before her very eyes. “Little Roxy couldn’t stand to see the worms?”

With her free hand, she knocked his out of the way and failed at concealing her laughter. “No! I couldn’t then and I can’t now! All they do is dig around in the dirt and poop and-”

Boom!

James and Roxy didn’t even need their high vantage point to see what had caused the ridiculously loud noise to bounce around the soundstage, ringing obnoxiously in their ears.

One of the large digital screens A.M. L.A. used for their Hollywood Minute segment had been knocked to the floor - Completely ruining the set and destroying the massive piece of equipment. As the screen lay flat on the floor, a pixelated image of the show’s logo flashed every few seconds.

Whatever their friends on the ground floor had done would shave off at least another two minutes from the show, and the pair noticed Kendall - top hat and fake, bushy beard - make his way over to a very agitated Jane to tell her just that.

It wasn’t long after, the rest of his friends rushed to join him at the podium to see what the producer might say, just in case she decided to change her mind.

As the woman looked over the schedule the frontman presented her, she tore off her black headset with a shriek.

“You will never perform on my show!” As she had done before, she pulled a radio from her back pocket and screamed into it, “Security! I need security!”

In a flash, the five were off running again, dumping their costumes onto the woman’s head to keep her distracted for just a bit while they made their daring escape.

By now, they were running out of places to hide, but that didn’t stop them from charging down the hall toward the green room to see if they had any small spaces or storage closets left to duck into.

As she had been all morning, Mrs. Knight was curled up on the couch as the five teens came to a screeching halt in the doorway. Still gaming, Katie watched over her, holding a finger to her lips to warn her friends not to say anything too loud and wake the woman up.

“You know that producer lady is gonna have every security guard on the lot after you.” The girl whispered, though the sounds from her game made it very hard to hear what she was saying.

Crouching down a bit to meet her eye level, Kendall raised his brows. “Not if my baby sister, whom I love, creates a distraction!”

“Please, please, please!” The other four whisper-begged, placing their palms together.

Another eye roll came from the girl, but she snapped her DS shut and stalked out of the green room muttering some irrepeatable words under her breath.

Without missing a beat, Big Time Rush and their assistant were sure to clear out of the green room before security could find them. However, there was still one major issue: They had nowhere left to go.

Racking her brain as she tried to remember every twist and turn they had taken that day, it was hard to concentrate with the rhythmic pumping of her sore legs being her primary focus.

I feel so bad for the people on the floor below us… She thought, listening to the pounding of their shoes on the ancient blue-black carpet.

“Wait!” She called, coming to a dead stop in the middle of the hallway. Thankfully, her friends were able to come to a stop as well, not colliding with her at full force. “A different floor! They won’t be looking for us in a different studio!”

“Yes!” Carlos cheered, jumping up and pumping his fist. “Where’s the closest stairwell?”

Each of them looked in a different direction, trying to find any hint of a staircase or elevator, when Kendall noticed a building directory on the wall behind his assistant. “Wanna go upstairs to the Times or downstairs to F.M. L.A.?”

“Radio?” Roxy thought aloud, still trying to recover from their marathon. “Radio!”

“F.M. L.A. it is,” Declared James and the five followed the map around the corner to the door marked stairwell. Running down the steps was certainly much easier than running up the stairs would have been, and for that, the assistant was completely grateful.

Entering the floor for F.M. L.A. took Roxy straight back to her radio days at Project Pop back in Minnesota. Each station under the company moniker had its own large, soundproof booths, and large panes of glass allowed the teens to look in and see the anchors doing the news or watch the DJs spin their tracks.

The substations had the names painted out over the doorframes, boasting a country station, a news station, and her favorite local station - No Requests Granted.

She hadn’t meant to geek out, they had far more important things to be worrying about right now, but when she saw the show's two hosts behind the glass, she felt like a kid at the zoo gawking at their favorite animal. Their show was largely interview-based, talking to some of the most prominent up-and-comers in the L.A. music scene.

“Now this is a show we need to get on!” She told her friends, glancing back and forth between them and the hosts who were too busy buried in their notes to notice the girl in their window. “They’re fascinating! Though, they’re normally interviewing a band around this time - I wonder who’s on today.”

Too engrossed in her fangirling to hear two pairs of footsteps approaching the door from the other side of the hallway, she jumped a bit when someone shared, “Why, that would be us.”

Immediately, the excitement that had taken hold of her was knocked straight out of her body.

Out of all the people in Los Angeles, California, it just had to be them.

It was stupid, but Roxy just shut her eyes, not turning around and not moving from her spot, and hoped to no avail that Mag McAllister and Dani Huron wouldn’t be in the hall when she opened them again. After everything bad that had happened today, things were finally starting to look up for her and Big Time Rush, until this very moment.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friends, Roxanne?”

When Mag said her name, her eyes shot open and she could see the looks of confusion written all over her friend’s faces. It had been six, maybe seven months since she had told them about her old band, Brand New Day, and how the two of them had stolen one of her first songbooks. She’d casually mentioned a few weeks earlier that Brand New Day played before them on the Rocktober lineup, but they never ended up crossing paths that day since the festival was so large; She didn’t blame her band for not remembering what they looked like.

They were the reason she had to move schools in the middle of the year back home; They were the reason she had such trouble sharing her incomplete songs with other people.

After all the running and hiding they had done that day, how much she had complained to herself as they evaded security guards and mean Hollywood producers, she hadn’t backed down from the challenge. Big Time Rush had a goal that day and she wasn’t going to let anything stand in the way of that, just like a good assistant would.

Even though all she wanted to do was run away, she slowly took a few steps closer to her band before turning around to face the two people she had been trying to avoid for years.

“Mag. Dani.” She didn’t even dignify them with a greeting, seeing as it wasn’t at all a pleasure to run into them. “This is Kendall, James, Carlos, and Logan. The four of them make up the band Big Time Rush.”

Green eyes lighting up as she pointed down the line and introduced her friends, Mag smiled innocently. The skin around his green eyes branched out into lines of crow's feet - a trait she had always found peculiar about the 17-year-old - though his curly black hair soon fell over the sides of his face to hide the lines. “No way! I’m a huge fan. This is such an honor, isn’t it Dani?”

Beside him, Dani absentmindedly twirled a finger through their long, straight brown locks, red nail polish popping out, and nodded their head with a simple, “What’s up?”

She knew that Mag was lying, he used to trash on mainstream pop music any chance he got, but his tone sure left the Big Time Rush boys convinced. One by one, they shook his hand and exchanged simple greetings.

Normally, she’d think it funny Mag and Kendall had dressed in almost the same exact way, but she was too busy trying to hide her quivering lip as she watched her friends interact with the strange pair.

“Radio shows are so fun!” Carlos stated, gesturing toward the booth. “But we’re upstairs at A.M. L.A. today… What kind of music do you guys make?”

“Oh, Roxy didn’t tell you about us? That isn’t like her at all! What happened to Miss I Wear My Heart On My Sleeve? Don’t tell me Hollywood has changed you that much,” Mag laughed, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder.

Very obviously, she flinched at the contact, but did her best not to cause a scene right in the middle of the hallway.

Though she felt utterly sick to her stomach she fought the bile rising in her throat as Mag’s hand lingered on her body for a bit too long. Sucking a breath in, the writer calmly reached one hand up, plucking the newcomer’s off her shoulder with her thumb and forefinger.

Dani took a step toward the door, leaning onto the frame as they watched the interaction, and answered Carlos’ question, “We’re an alt band from Duluth, Minnesota - Brand New Day. Check us out sometime.”

“Oh… We don’t associate with thieves.” James shared, first to catch onto his girlfriend’s sour mood once Dani had shared the band’s name.

As the air in the room shifted at his words, she could just about die of embarassment.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Carlos and Logan take a step forward, joining her where she stood. Finally, everything began to connect for the rest of them - why their assistant had gone so pale, her blunt responses in place of her normal cheery words, and the way she shied away from Mag’s touch…

With a whistle, Mag chuckled and tossed a bit of his curls out of his face, “Woah, big accusations there, man! It’s not really wise for up-and-coming pop stars to pick fights with others, right?”

“Only when it’s not true,” Kendall chimed in, “Which we know for a fact it is.”

“Who knew boy band dudes were so uptight?” Dani asked from the doorway, buffing a few of their nails out on their beat-up Good Charlotte tour t-shirt. “Don’t you have a corny ass ballad or something to go sing?”

Logan took another step, knuckles practically white at his sides, as his assistant croaked out, “You’re going to be late for your interview… No Requests Granted starts at 6:30 on the dot.”

Hoping that it was somewhere around 6:30, the girl held her breath again, worried if she said something else it would only make the situation worse. Right now, all she was focused on was getting her band out of this deeply uncomfortable situation. It wasn’t fair of her to drag them into all her past drama, yet there they were, standing right in the middle of it.

“Right! Right!” Mag said, glancing at the watch around his wrist. Lazily, he turned back to Dani and pointed a thumb toward the booth, “Let’s get in there before the hosts start to worry. Thanks, Roxy.”

“It’s Roxanne.”

“Oof!” The boy joked, stumbling backward and throwing his hands over his heart. “That’s going to be so hard to get used to considering…” Not at all trying to hide the way his eyes flickered between her and her friends, Mag cracked a smile. “...Everything we’ve been through, Roxanne.”

And just like that, the two of them headed into the radio booth, putting their best P.R. faces on as they greeted their hosts before sitting down to start the interview.

Not even bothering to check in with her friends about the next phase of their plan, Roxy shot off down the hallway, looking for a different entrance to the A.M. L. A. studio where the guards or Jane wouldn’t bust them.

Big Time Rush quickly followed after her, lost for words at their unexpected encounter with people from their assistant’s past.

“Um, Roxy, do you want to-”

“No.”

“Can we please-”

“No.”

“Was that really-”

“Yes.”

“What about-” “I hate Good Charlotte.”

“That’s not what I was going to-”

“Drop it!”

A few beats of silence followed her last statement, which would have been quite awkward, had it not led to them overhearing a conversation taking place on the floor above them through an air duct on the ceiling.

It seemed as though the five of them had stumbled into a wing of the building that was under renovation for the time being - presumably to add a few more booths to the F.M. L. A. floor. Lucky for Roxy and the boys, there were plenty of construction tools lying around, waiting to be taken advantage of.

Looks like we found our way in.

From above, the voice of the famous Chef Hollandaise was slightly muffled, “Now, this recipe will take a long time to prepare, but it’s worth it!”

Accepting their assistant’s request to drop their previous topic of conversation, the boys stopped interrogating her and began looking for a solution to their time-crunch problem. The Hollywood minute was gone, leaving the cooking segment to run a bit longer than normal.

“What’s a better way to end the culinary demonstration than to get rid of the chef?” Logan’s idea was brilliant, though quite menacing as his friends watched him pick up an abandoned saw from the construction site.

Eyes widening in fear, Carlos brought a hand to his helmet, “Dude… We can’t…”

The two of them bickered back and forth, Logan trying to defend his statement despite its sinister implications, and Carlos trying to figure out why he would bother to phrase it that way.

This left some time for Kendall to scout around for a ladder, considering he had understood Logan’s plan perfectly while Roxy took a breather, leaning into her boyfriend for a few moments.

There was a lot to be said about their previous encounter with Brand New Day, but no one brought anything up when the frontman trailed back into the room with the equipment he had been searching for.

Hurriedly scurrying up the ladder and using the sound of Chef Hollaindaise’s voice, Kendall used his best guessing skills to approximate his location on the floor above them, before sticking the sharp metal through the ceiling tile and cutting out a comically large hole.

While she certainly didn’t approve of the boy’s actions, Roxy couldn’t come up with a better solution herself, so she let James continue to hold her as the blond let out a small chuckle, nearly completing his circle.

“Sorry, Chef, but we have to cut this segment short.”

She presumed he was trying to lighten the mood, but the five of them were so high-strung from both anxiety and adrenaline that the joke didn’t land.

A few seconds, and some major cracking from the ceiling tiles, later, the chef fell straight through the ceiling and onto the floor below, landing a bit awkwardly at the band’s feet. The fall hadn’t been enough to cause any lasting damage to the man’s body, but it certainly had to have hurt.

“He’ll be fine!” Logan assured his friends, and his medical knowledge was enough to put their minds at ease before Carlos grabbed Hollaindaise’s apron and chef’s hat and shimmied his way up the ladder into the kitchen set.

There was no time wasted as the boy quickly derailed the segment, turning it into a large ad for fishsticks instead of whatever complicated meal Chef Hollandaise had come up with. While Carlos kept the cameras distracted, the rest of the band and their assistant climbed the ladder to the A.M. L.A. floor and managed to use the kitchen set as their cover as they crawled to the dark outer edges of the studio.

Once Carlos’ fishsticks were in the oven, security was barreling onto the set after him, though he was quick to evade them. Now that the guards had been chasing the five of them so much, it was getting easier to predict their moves and therefore getting easier to slip through their fingers.

Jane let out an exasperated scream, throwing a handful of the paper schedules she had prepared for the day up in the air.

While she was busy figuring out what segment to place on the air next, the writer noticed a large stack of unattended cue cards. From her spot along the wall, it looked as though they contained boring financial information, so she dared to creep forward and pull them into the shadows with her and her band.

Pulling a pen from her bag, she didn’t hesitate to change up some of the wording, and throw some of the boards away completely - Anything to help cut a few more seconds of precious time from the show.

“Logan, how good are you with stocks and investments and all that stuff?” The frown that had been permanently fixed on her face since their encounter with Brand New Day slowly grew into a small smile as she pointed toward the words on the newly edited cue card. “And, James, feel like being the cutest weatherman in the world?”

Both of them shot off to their respective new sets wordlessly, eager to play a part in her plan.

It was just her luck, she heard Jane yell, “Move the financial update!” before passing off the boards to Kendall to hold up for the news anchor.

Better for him to get chased by security than me.

Easily blending into the small crowd of workers on the A.M. L.A. set, the frontman had no trouble holding up the cue cards for Miles Bainbridge behind the camera. The moment he held the first one up, the news anchor flashed a dazzling smile.

“And here’s the financial report with new correspondent, Logan.”

Popping up behind the financial update set’s desk, Logan, sporting a spiffy new suit jacket and gripping the saw they had used to cut through the ceiling addressed the camera right on cue. “Today, I recommend buying stock in Begley’s Own Green Products! The tasers are excellent… The energy drinks?”

From across the way, Roxy grabbed one off the refreshment table and gave it her best aim, hurtling it right into his hands. The sounds of Janes' breathing growing more and more labored were quite amusing, especially as the women tried to keep it quiet since the camera was rolling.

“They really work! And his organic saws can cut through the toughest studio floors! Now over to James Diamond with the weather!”

Like before, the cameras turned to the new set, revealing James in a beautiful black suit jacket with a matching pink tie and pocket square combo behind the green screen showing the weather for the week. How it was still in the 80s in October baffled the Minnesotan girl, but she was a bit more focused on making sure he cut down the report as best he could.

As he glanced over in her direction, she ran a finger across her throat making her statement about the segment clear. Kill it!

“Do we really need a weather report?” Her boyfriend asked into the camera, using a silver metal pointer to show off the 4-day forecast. “It’s L.A.! It’s gonna be bright and sunny all year long.”

Somehow he had still saved his sunglasses from his stealth costume earlier and popped those on for good measure as Jane breathed in and out of a paper bag.

Then, James took a few steps toward the camera and pulled out his list, “Be the cutest weatherman in the world, check! Because my girlfriend said so! Ha!”

His hands flew to the sides of his face, wiggling his fingers from his temple to his chin as he gave the camera a goofy grin.

“Go back to Miles! Back to Miles!” The producer screamed and Roxy felt someone grab her wrist and pull her out of the shadows.

Carlos, along with his tray of baked fishsticks, dragged her to the news set and popped the try on the table in front of the shocked anchor. Pulling out a chair for her to sit down in, he offered her one of his creations before kicking back in his own seat and offering one over to Miles.

When the cameras cut back, Roxy felt all the eyes in the studio on her, her friend, and the grown man sitting between them. Normally, she had no issue with that considering how many times she’d taken the stage that summer, but this made her and Carlos a prime target for security.

Anxiously, she took a few bites of her fishstick and chewed slowly, scanning her field of vision for any men in yellow jackets.

“These are really excellent, Chef Carlos!” Miles complimented, dipping his snack into a bit of ketchup and tapping it against the younger boy’s.

With a nod, Roxy simply had to agree. “Mr. Bainbridge, if you like his cooking, you’d just love his music, don’t you think? Why don’t you tell us about it, Carlos?”

All their hours of media training had prepared the boy well as he launched into his typical explanation to advertise the band’s first album BTR.

From her podium, Jane was in full-on crisis mode, pulling out a red corded rotary phone from seemingly nowhere, screaming into it, “Get me every security officer on the KULA lot and destroy Big Time Rush!”

That seems a bit dramatic-

The assistant’s thoughts were cut off as the tell-tale chime of a new breaking news update flooded the studio.

“This just in!” Miles immediately snapped into work mode, listening to the message flooding into his clear, plastic earpiece as a piece of footage from the studio backlot popped up on the teleprompter screen, “Every security guard on the KULA lot is currently involved in a low-speed chase!”

“Let’s go live!” Carlos added while Roxy did her best to keep from snorting her fishstick from how hard the footage was making her laugh.

Clips she could only assume came from the news chopper showed one of Ed Begley Jr.’s solar-powered vehicles, driven by none other than Katie Knight, slowly chugging down an alleyway. Meanwhile, four other studio golf carts were in hot pursuit of her, each carrying around four to five security guards.

No wonder we haven’t run into trouble recently…

“Do you want me to go to commercial?” Miles asked, so lost without any more cue cards as he picked up another fishstick.

In response, Jane began gripping the sides of her head so hard the assistant feared she might tear some great chunks of her hair out.

“Roxy, gotta go!”

From the other side of the set, Carlos erupted from his seat once he caught wind of three security guards heading their way, catching her wrist once again and pulling her out of her chair. Even though she managed to grab one more fishstick for the road, it was hard to run and eat at the same time.

At least this time, as the pair caught up with Kendall, Logan, and James, they didn’t have far to go before the security guards got a call over their radios stating that they were needed to deal with Katie’s rampage immediately.

During the chaos of Roxy and Carlos’ on-air time, the other boys were able to change back into their performance outfits. Now all they had left to do was wait and see if their segment cuts had worked in their favor.

By this time, most of the crew had left since there were too many things to deal with going on at once, so Miles, Jane, and her production assistant were incredibly lost. When the cameras switched back on once the commercial break was over, faming the anchor in the preview screen, he blinked a few times, completely confused.

“Are we back?”

That got Jane to pick her head up off her desk, hair in such a state of disarray after ripping her headset off. “We’re back? Why are we back? We don’t have any more segments!”

“We’re four minutes short!” The P.A. informed her, terror filling her eyes as the woman continued to scream into her face.

This felt like the perfect time for her band to wedge their way into the schedule, so Roxy gave them each a little shove toward the podium as Jane broke down in tears. Her sobs were so loud they almost drowned out Kendall’s voice as he waved the paper schedule around. “Oh, if only there was something that could be done to fill that time…”

“Never! Do you hear me?” The woman growled, so loudly and violently that her face was slowly becoming the deepest shade of red the assistant had ever seen. “I’d rather have four minutes of dead air and get fired than to lose to you!”

From the table behind her, she managed to grab two of Ed’s tasers that had still been laying aorund and trained them right on Kendall and James. This, of couse, sent the pair into a panic, trying to find ways to block the red tracking light of the weapons with the schedule, and in James’ case, Carlos.

“As long as I’m standing here, Big Time Rush will never perform on live TV!”

Jane didn’t hear the sound of screeching tires until it was far too late.

Incoming from the studio lot was Katie and her slow, solar powered machine which she was only half paying attention to steering. Most of her focus was on her DS game, leading her to ram right into the crazed woman and knock her to the ground. At least she was able to hit the breaks before the tires rolled over her body and the vehicle was going slow enough, it couldn’t cause any real damage.

“I did it!” The young girl cried, eyes trained on the screens in front of her. “I defeated the evil she-beast!”

You can say that again.

On the ground, Jane let out a weak groan that let everyone know she was still alive.

That seemed like the perfect time to draw the attention away from the scene her band had inadvertently caused.

Rushing over to where she had left her last cue card, Roxy broke away from her friends before running back toward the camera. Holding it up for the anchor to see, she called, “Miles!” and pointed to her script before glancing at her friends and pointing to the stage.

“Oh! Words to read!” He smiled at the caard, training his eyes into the lens as he shared his new line. “Let’s give it up for Big Time Rush!”

Turning to the soundboard beside her, which thankfully looked identical to the one Gustavo had at Rocque Records, Roxy was able to turn a few dials, push a few buttons, and boost the microphone audio on her friends before starting the instrumental track to “Til I Forget About You.”

Some of the crew had even been kind enough to return to the set and adjust the cameras to the boy’s set, displaying their logo behind them in big, flashing blue letters. Her job was done, and she let out a sigh of relief as she gripped the sides of the podium Jane had previously stood at, now it was up to the boys to nail their performance for A.M. L.A.’s audience of three million.

Over the course of their time in Los Angeles, there had only been a few Big Time Rush performances where Roxy hadn’t taken the stage with them. Especially over the course of their tour, it had been a very long time since she was lucky enough to see the four perform while she was in the audience.

Their stage presence always captivated her, though there was something about this performance in particular that had her paying extra attention. Was it a bit strange her new boyfriend was singing a song she had written about her ex? Sure. But that was all part of the job.

As he struck his poses and hit his dance cues before ultimately raising his mic to sing, James kept glancing her way, as if he was checking if she was still paying attention.

Maybe she was a bit selfish for shooting him a wink, for being just crazy enough to imagine he was performing for her instead of the greater Los Angeles area, but the way he moved was just different and she couldn’t put her finger on why.

As they began the last verse, Roxy realized it had been quite some time since she had last thought about Dak Zevon, and she’d certainly like to keep it that way.

So, she watched on, trying to commit every movement and ad-lib the boys brought to the song she had written, to memory so she could think of this moment every time they’d play this song in the future instead of the loser who had broken her heart all those months ago.

Maybe it’s time to forget Mag and Dani too, she thought for a fleeting second, just as the song came to a close.

Applause broke out through the studio, her clapping being some of the loudest, as Miles ended the broadcast with an enthusiastic, “This just in, Big Time Rush rocks!”

As the credits rolled and the cameras pulled away, Roxy took off running for the final time that day and practically launched herself into James’ open arms.

Easily, he caught her, spinning her around a few times as he held her around the waist. The metal from the microphone cut into her back just a bit, but she didn’t mind as her arms circled his neck and she peppered a few kisses across his cheeks.

“Hey, hey!” He managed, waiting for her to finish her assault before setting her back down on the ground. “What’s all that for?”

“You’re so talented,” Roxy managed, looking him right in the eye. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you that.”

In return, James smiled before shifting his gaze to the side as though he were embarrassed. “You did. Once. When Hawk… You know.”

“Well then… Sounds like I need to say it more.”

“I’m certainly not complaining.”

The two of them were so caught up in their own little world, it startled the pair when Carlos cleared his throat behind them. “Do you not think we’re talented?”

Reluctantly Roxy let go of her boyfriend before turning around, biting back a grin. “Come on, of course I think that!”

Both Logan and Kendall stuck out their bottom lips, pretending to guilt her with their pouty stares, “We didn’t get spinny hugs and pretty girl kisses…”

Their assistant’s, “There’s plenty waiting for you at the Palm Woods,” overlapped with James incredibly threatening, “Don’t you even think about it, dudes.”

The other boys’ teasing sent them into a fit of giggles as James slung an arm around his girlfriend’s shoulers, giving her some massive stink eye as she brought her fingers to her lips and blew the other three imaginary kisses.

Concluding their first live TV debut, Roxy wished she could write a song about their picture perfect moment, but couldn’t formulate anything catchy enough. It did, however, remind her of James’ ultimate goal.

“Oh, James, your list!” She brought a hand to his chest to catch his attention.

Eyes lighting up, he removed his arm from around her shoulders and popped the checklist out of his back pocket. “Perform on live TV?”

All of his friends took pleasure in their chorus of, “Check!”

After marking off the small box he had written next to his goal, he shuffled a few pages before turning them over and handing the pen and paper off to Roxy. “Wanna check that one off for me?”Slightly confused, she followed his finger as he pointed to the middle of the page. Though she had to squint a bit to make out his script, she was more than pleased to cross out the empty space right in front of Make Roxanne Somerset my girlfriend.

#thats all she wrote fic #big time rush #james diamond #kendall knight #logan mitchell #carlos garcia #kendall schmidt #james maslow #logan henderson #carlos penavega #btr

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90sloverwithinsomnia · 2 months ago

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Vol 1 - Battle of the Boy Bands - Chapter 5/23

This is one of many archived fanfics featuring 1st and 2nd generation K-pop acts that I've come across recently. It's all in good fun, and maybe a bit cringeworthy! Just to clarify, I don't post fanfics, so I hope to the people that post and read K-pop fanfics makes sense. Credits go out to the original creator (hgiel) Anrui, Kyorei, and Jacqui.

*Note: Nothing in their post will change (unless necessary), other than being posted here, and the (Link) will be provided to the page that i found it on.

Characters:

Choi Dongwook (Se7en), Wheesung, Moon Heejoon, Ahn Chilhyun (Kangta), Jae Joong, Yun Ho, Mickey, Max, Xia, Young One, Woo Hyun, UBin, Dong Hwa, Jumin

Chapter 5:

The next morning the members of K-pop started to stir in their separate rooms when the door bell started to sing a rendition of "Memories Scent."

"How...? Never mind, I don't care." Woo Hyun opened the door and Se7en stood cheerily before them with two camera men behind him.

"What the hell? I thought it was old McDonald?" Woohyun said to no one as he finally stumbled out of bed into the front room. Jumin was coming out of his room in the same sleepy state.

"I changed the tune last night," Jumin said rubbing sleep from his eyes as they both went to the front door.

"Good mo... Hey! Wheres Dong Bong Shin Gi?"

"We had a little eviction last night." Young One said coming into the room wearing only his boxers. He saw the camera and stuck a muscular pose then addressed Seven again. "What the hell was this set up about anyway? You said there would be no electricity! Ding Bang... whatever, the fruity ones, got the Ritz and we were stuck in up in a tree with no toilet!"

"Yeah, what the hell?" Woo Hyun asked as seven pushed passed them and came into the lovely front room. Jumin smiled and flashed the cameras a peace sign.

"There wasn't supposed to be electricity..." Seven mumbled and everyone followed him into the kitchen. The kitchen window was part way open and an extension cord lay on the counter with a ton of circuit protectors which supplied the whole cabin with electricity.

"Where did this come from?" Seven leaned out the window. "This is coming from my place!!! No wonder the lights kept going out! DAMN!"

"You mean they cheated?" Jumin asked.

"I don't know how they could have done this last night.."

"I bet Junta did it the other night when they were shacked up in here." Woo Hyun said. "You know we didn't get dinner last night? Hee Jun ate it all before we even got here!" Woo Hyun ratted.

Seven rubbed a temple. "This is too much. Okay, I'll try to fix all of this, I promise."

Just then Ubin walked in with his hair done up in curlers. "AIEE! Why didn't you tell me the camera men were here already?" He screamed running back to his room in tears as one of the camera men hurried after him.

"You have a girl in your group?" Seven asked surprised.

***

"Hello?" Seven called as he started to climb into the tree house. Seven stopped and stared and took in the scene. UKnow and Hero were in one futon cuddling while Mickey and Xiah were doing the same close by. Max was sleeping across three futons, two of them he had claimed as his own and the third was Mickey and Xiah's where his feet rested close to their heads. Xiah was actually snuggling Max's left foot. A strange girl was snoring in the corner with more than her fair share of the blankets and he assumed Kang Ta and Hee Jun were under the mountain of blankets in the kitchen. Every single one of them were fast asleep, oblivious to the camera men and the horrified idol in their "Door way."

"We're going to have to edit the hell out of this..." Seven said to one of the camera men who just shrugged.

"WAKE UP!" Seven yelled as loudly as he could. There was a flurry of blankets, pillows and clothing as DBSG woke up startled.

"Who?" Mickey asked blinking at the bright lights on the cameras.

"Help!" Xiah cried hiding behind Mickey trying to fix his hair.

"Five more minutes." Uknow mumbled rolling over.

"Get up, get up, get up!!!" Seven ordered. "Who is that girl?!" Seven pointed to the ruffled girl sitting up in the corned. "And why is K-pop's den mother in th kitchen with Kang Ta?!"

"I'm an Ex- Woo Hyun Fan!" The girl explained hotly. "He lied and I want pay back!"

Seven stared at her, trying to find something to say but ended up turning to face the kitchen where Hee Jun was finally poking his head above the covers.

"You were supposed to keep shit like this from happening Hee Jun! Your not even with your team!" Hee Jun just shrugged. "What happened last night?"

"I don't know. The hairy girl attacked me in my sleep last night, saying something about kissing a Dong...one?"

"You kissed who?!" Kang Ta Cried shooting from under the covers.

"But I didn't!" Hee Jun explained quickly.

"Never mind, I don't care! Hee Jun get with your team, we're going to start the next competition in 30 minutes so everyone be ready and down there. We'll straighten this out then. You," Seven turned to the fan girl who was helping Xiah fix the back of his hair. "I don't know what to do with you... Just stay here for now and I'll ask the producer."

"Like hell I'm staying here!" She screamed. "That's what Woo Hyun said and he never came back!" She suddenly burst into tears and Mickey acquirly patted her shoulder.

"I'm hungry." Hero said sleepily. Everyone turned to him slowly, holding their breath but he just laid back down next to UKnow mumbling something about fan girls needing more meat on them.

***

The pink team stood on one side of a mud pit and the black team on the other. Seven and the fan girl stood at the side looking at the camera man.

"Welcome back to Battle of the Boy Bands! I'm seven!" He Flipped onto his hands and made the seven sign. The fan girl stepped away quickly, startled by sevens sudden movement and bumped into the camera man. "And this is.. uh... my assistant, I guess."

"Awsome!" The fan girl blew a kiss to the camera then flipped off Woo Hyun who was staring at her. Woo Hyun looked around startled.

"Wasn't that...?" He asked Young one.

"Not everyone can love you, pretty boy." Young one said then went back to stretching in preparation for the game.

"Today we're starting off the competition with a tug of war game. And since there have been recent... complications... the winners will get to stay in the black teams cabin tonight. There will be one, two three... " He paused looking a little torn because he had to stop counting before he reached seven. "Three games they have to compete in today! Each much harder than the last. Now lets start!" Seven and the camera man turned the mud pit and idols picking up the rope.

"I'll hurt my hands!" Xiah whimpered.

"Shut up and just pull! I don't want to sleep up in a tree again tonight." Max growled.

On the other side of the mud pit Jumin was giving a pep talk. "Are we going to let a bunch of 17 year old light weights beat us?"

"NO!" Everyone cheered but Donghwa who was staring off.

"Alright lets do this!" Jumin smacked a couple of them on the ass and they all went to collect the rope.

"Donghwa!" Ubin pulled his absent friends into place. "You pull really hard as soon as they say go, okay?" He explained in a kind voice. "Donghwa, are you listening?" But it was too late, the fan girl had grabbed the mic from an unsuspecting Seven and was now starting the game.

"READY?! SET! GO!" She through her arms into the air.

Both teams pulled as hard as they could and Uknow screaming encouragment while Max yelling profanity as neither side budged.

"Why aren't we winning?!" Young One cried pulling with all his might. "We're all bigger than them!"

Ubin looked around and saw Donghwa behind him standing idlely and admiring a butterfly flying close to his nose.

"Donghwa pull! DONGHWA!" Ubin started to scream as somehow K-pop's feet started to slide in the dirt.

"DONGHWA PAY ATTENTION!" Jumin begged as he, the closest to the mud pit, started to see it get closer.

"What?" Donghwa blinked.

"PULL!" All four of them yelled.

"Oh." The tides turned and quickly DBSG lost their footing and Uknow, who was in the front, tumbled into the mud pit.

"NOOO!" Hero cried and stood on the very edge of the mud pit. "Baby, are you okay?"

"AHH! It's in my hair!" UKnow sobbed

K-pop danced around and cheered and Ubin insisted on hugging everyone. UKnow managed to climb out of the pit covered from head to toe in mud. "He looks like swamp thing..." Mickey said as everyone stepped away from him.

"Somebody help me!" UKnow begged as he stumbled around blindly trying to rub mud from his face. No one stepped towards him. Just then Kang Ta and Hee Jun stepped from the wilderness looking a little too happy. Kang Ta saw the state of his team and came at a run. Moon Hee Jun sauntered over to his team and joined in the celebrations and happily accepted a hug from Ubin who seemed to have forgotten he was supposed to be angary at Hee Jun.

Kang Ta took off Hee Jun's jacket which he had been sporting and used it to help UKnow wipe himself off with. "Poor thing! I should have been here..."

"Now on to the next game!" Seven cheered.

"Already?!" DBSG cried as one.

#DBSG #K-Pop #Hee Jun #Kang Ta #Se7en #Tae Bin #Wheesung #Dong Bang Shin Ki #1TYM #SM Town #YG Family #H.O.T #junta

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silverjetsystm · 1 year ago

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Grant paused, head tilted towards the reenactment and the reel churning on against the wall. Gears grind in his head. A familiar sardonic voice brought him out of his thoughts; he turned away from burning plastic, hands clasped behind his back, whiskey eyes flickering from black-clad musician recklessly reclining to the unfortunately brown-faced ‘Valentino.’ Some ‘trends’ really did need to stay in the past.

He cocked his eyebrows, the left rakishly stretching the scars, in acknowledgment. Like a vulture well practiced at the art of back-handed compliments, Ben picked and picked for a scrap of reaction. Stark black feathers, grey beak wet with blood in a lush clearing. Not a trace of bright color, sheen or otherwise. He set his mouth in a closed lip smile, concealing teeth clenched a shade too hard, as Ben sauntered his way.

Tonight, Grant’s flying solo through the brown-and-pink pad, having intended to walk a circuit of the party, flash a maddeningly polite grins, shake hands, and beat a hasty retreat back to his condo. Their host’s shriek and Ben’s point about the absence of furniture drew a genuine “Hah.”

“So,” Grant echoed, shoulders shaking with the remnant of mirth quickly replaced by a half shrug, eyes nevertheless sparkling despite the stress. Independent films were always managing one emergency after another and being on strike added more details to think about. “It’s on hold for now but yes, I am to produce.”

One of the waitresses with legs that went on forever danced by carrying a tray full of delicate glasses; he held his hand close to his chest in a ‘pass’ gesture. Ben was faster on the draw, pushing the flute into his hand. “You didn’t have to. Really.” Grant accepted it with a head shake and a sigh. Instead of knocking the bubbly back, he pinched the neck with his thumb and four fingers.

All well he did. Lives. Spector was a cold ball of paranoia pacing up and down the worn floors of their mind.

Spector was the one who had seen the black vulture, one bloody day in Bolivia.

Calling attention to the ‘mistake’ would bring more attention than ignoring it. Their crack mental health team wouldn’t leak that diagnosis to the press.

“Mmm,” he said, glancing at the hand on his shoulder. “The script cried out to be made. Everyone is tired of franchises but they want the comfort of the familiar. Action-Adventures, history, but with voices who should have been there to start with. Fortunately, we hadn’t nailed down a shooting date just yet. I think it has a chance once everything settles down.”

Any hard-hitting commentary about the choice of movie and the timing of this party was softened by the host. Alas, he really had to hand it to whichever planner hired the band. They were on point from attire to the set list accompanying conversation. He’d have to get their card. A sigh escaped his lips. Networking was easier when he had a built-in plus one. Only an Egyptologist would appreciate running commentary of what was an anachronism and which tomb the architect imitating work with subpar materials from a century ago had ripped off.

Flute gestured at the crowd, the performers, the flop everyone was choosing to ignore. “How deliberate do you think this all is?”

Lockley, while a fantastic public chauffeur, did not understand optics at all. What was the point of going to things everyone hated, he has asked before and would ask again if he wasn’t tucked away past the point of seeing any of Renella’s latest monstrosity. Opportunities presented themselves at these types of events. Bonds that could only be forged by kvetching complaining about the same thing.

@thesilverandjetsystem ://

— ☾ —

Michel Renella was known for throwing the gaudy neo-20th century parties of babylonic ambition everyone hated but went to in droves.

This time, Renella and his triad were playing a filmed sensual surrealist enactment of Flahooley over a Sherwin Williams High Reflective White monolith flanked by two gold-flecked rose marble pillars, part of Michel Renella's awful penchant for anything art deco revival (like the brown and pink carpeted stairs and split-levels) completing the absurdity and tastelessness of the whole pad and the whole affair.

Luckily, the silent and runny off-color production of Flahooley was accompanied by one of those big brass bands. They hired a singer who could simulate Yma Sumac's vocalisations and startling range—her right to the golden headdress.

Ben had quietly planted his frame on something he was not supposed to be sitting on, watching the salmon-saturated projection of a wannabe actress twirling her wrists and sashaying from resin plaster to marble, resin marble to plaster, the singer's golden voice glissading through his right ear; Birds was the song, and she tittered and cried like one. Castanets thudded against his left ear in competition with the flourishing party chatter. The film no one was interested in watching skipped between the wannabe actress dancing and flashes of burning baby dolls, then the it-girl genie shaking her tits. And who should step through that hokey image but Steven Grant?

"Look, it's the sheik."

A few ferns away stood a man costumed, again, in poor taste, as a heavily, you know, made-up Rudolph Valentino, but they both knew Ben was referring to Grant.

Grant who was like a different guy every time Ben saw him. He could swear, on God, who he wouldn't, so he'd swear on his Ma, the love and bane of his life, that Grant was about three different guys in a tan button-down, a three-piece suit, or the t-shirt with the little scarf.

Ben rose to approach him not two moments before Michel Renella shrieked, "Get off my Noguchi, you giant shitting fuck—!"

The giant shitting fuck to Renella, swaggering Grant's way without turning to look: "I'd sit on the furniture, Nella, but you don't own any."

"So," Ben said when he met his mark. Flashing one of his coyer angles, though, his insuppressible sour grin gave the guise a double edge. "Grant. I heard you're producing a movie or something. How?"

One of Nella's catering can-can dancers swung by on legs as long as Ben was tall, and he plucked a glass off her tray.

"Have a drink," he implored, pushing the flute into one of the magnificent Steven Grant's magnificent hands. "That's nice. Go on. Give it a good knock-back. Now tell me about your amazing lives. My mistake; I mean life."

Ben grinned and pressed Grant's shoulder.

"I mean, Grant. How are you?"

#kylo-wrecked #grant | gentle dr jones #v: an empty sky | modern

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azlrse · 3 years ago

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Idk if u are doing request rn... but can I request Glamrock Freddy X reader fluff? like SO MUCH FLUFF. i am a sucker for him😭 any prns are fine!!! i was thinking abt a scenario where reader stopped seeing Freddy for awhile cause of mental health and his reaction to seeing reader again. but if not thats ok!!!!!!!

Comfort (Glamrock Freddy x GN Animatronic!Reader)

CW: reader is having mental breakdowns, degrading, vent fic, implied atychiphobia, and angst to fluff.

A/N: I'm so sorry if this didn't relate to the first ask. It was a horrible day today and decided to vent out through this fic. I hope it's okay! :')))

‿︵��︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

Tired, that's all you felt after your negative thoughts were scattered through your head. Day after day, you kept your smile wide enough to show that you are okay, not only to your peers and to the children but also to your boyfriend.

Freddy had a gut feeling that something is wrong with you, telling you that he's there for you when you want someone to talk to. Being the stubborn animatronic you were, you just kept on talking to him that you were okay. Telling him that you just felt tired after so many hours of keeping the kids safe and entertained throughout the day.

Due to your stubbornness, you kept on degrading yourself. It's painful to say the least, suffering in this pathetic hole you just created for yourself. Your boyfriend and your friends were way talented from you, how they were so much popular in the Pizzaplex.

You pushed further and further to be the best animatronic in the building, even when your circuits were fried and needed some replacements. One of your friends, Glamrock Chica, was really worried for you when she saw your condition. "(y/n), you gotta rest for a while! You know that me and the others are so worried about you."

"I'm fine Chica, now leave me be. I still had a job to do." You replied nonchalantly as you walked passed her. Your breakdowns began to worsen as you cried and cried as you fall asleep in your recharge station. Every single night, you always stared into your mirror as you deeply reflected all the horrible things you just did for the day.

'Why didn't you make that kid stopped crying?'

'You did wayyy better when you first debuted here? Now where's your popularity?'

'You are such a pathetic whelp. Even Roxanne Wolf did way better than you.'

'You are pathetic, a failure."

'failure, failure, failure!!!"

It reached to the point where you tend to avoid Freddy and the others. Whenever he tries to approach you, you tend to walk towards the opposite way. One time, Monty wants to check up on you to see if you're alright but your doors were always locked every night when the building was closed.

Inside of your mind, you desperately want to scream for help, wanting to escape the deep void you just built for yourself. You never felt so weak and helpless as you lay down the air-conditioned floor and cried. 'Stop it, make it stop!! I want this pain to stop!!' You thought to yourself as you passed out from exhaustion, not knowing that you've forgotten to lock the door.

"Hey (y/n)! We brought something for you– (y/n)!!!" Roxy screamed as she and Chica ran towards you. "Chica! Tell Freddy and Monty to come here!! They're in really bad shape!!" Chica didn't hesitate to ran towards their rooms, telling them that you need urgent help.

-------

Hours after you slept, you woke to a familiar feeling on your hand. His thumb was rubbing on your hand as Freddy watched over you while you slept. "F-freddy?" Freddy looked at you, noticing many emotions as you stared in his eyes; sadness, disappointment and fear. Fear...that's the only thing he felt towards you. "I know something is wrong with you, starlight and I am not leaving till I heard the whole story."

You stayed silent for a while, hesitant to tell Freddy the reason why you passed out, why you tend to avoid him and his friends despite wanting help, why were you so hard on yourself. "Please, (y/n) dear. I must know." That's where you reached your limit.

You began to cry again..

Sobbing and wailing as you hugged him tightly, afraid that he might disappear. "It hurts, it hurts so bad, Freddy." Freddy hugged you back as a way to comfort you. "I only see myself as a failure, a pathetic animatronic that didn't deserve popularity or a place in this Pizzaplex. I don't deserve you, I don't deserve anything here." You continuously vented and ranted towards him, how you were so jealous towards their sky high popularity and you need to prove to the others that you are also worthy of that popularity.

"Starlight, what was the reason why I dated you in the first place?"

"Because of my popularity in my first time here in the Pizzaplex? Or is it my talents and my perfected abilities to make the kids happy?"

"No, you got it all wrong. The reason why I dated you is because I loved you. Not because of the popularity nor your abilities. I just love the way you are. I know that there were some things that you wouldn't tell me but please starlight," you only stared at his eyes. "please do tell me if something is wrong, I don't want my lover to suffer alone. We can work this out, okay?" You only nod and proceeded to cuddle towards his body close.

Freddy kissed your head as the both of you lay down the soft sofa. "I-I'm sorry for making you and the others worry so much but thank you..." He only smiled and cradles you close towards his body. "It's okay, sweetheart. We all have our limits sometimes. Now rest up and I'll be here watching over you."

It's been days since your breakdowns and you spend a lot of time working towards yourself, battling your fears and building up your strength. The management also announced that you will be in absence in a couple of weeks. Your friends and boyfriend, on the other hand, wrote a couple of letters to keep you company and to inspire you to embrace your strength and weakness.

You went towards the rehearsal room to wait for your peers, excited as they didn't know that you came out of your room after the ordeal.

Long story short, Freddy came rushing towards you while giving you lots of kisses after the show and your friends also gave you a tight hug as they told you on how proud they were towards your battle. Your fear of failure may haunt you for the rest of your life but with your boyfriend and his friends, you might need a bit of their help to surpass this battle.

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

Do not republish, edit, or repost to other websites.

Reblogs and likes are appreciated! 💕

#security breach x reader #fnaf security breach #glamrock freddy x reader #glamrock freddy #fnaf glamrock freddy #security breach #fnaf x reader #fnaf angst #fnaf fluff

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solomonish · 4 years ago

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Way To Go MC, You’ve Allowed Yourself to be Poisoned (Demon Brothers)

CW for: descriptions of food and eating, brief descriptions of choking-like symptoms. (mainly in the intro, though the individual stories mention coughing, (light) blood and fainting). there will be talk of food and keeping an eye on what is being eaten in the individual character stories as well.

Ahh thank you nonnie! I got tired and stopped at the demon brothers but I’ll finish the nowdateables later if you want! Which let’s be real, I’ll probably do soon because I wanna write for Solomon lol

I hope you like it!

---

It started off like any other night, with you grabbing a seat at the dinner table as the last of the food was placed in the middle. Someone beside you took your plate and gave you your portion for you, smiling at your murmur of thanks as they set it down. You waited until the last person, Levi, sat down, smiling at him as he muttered something about finishing a level to nobody in particular.

The moment you ate your first bite of food, something felt...off. Your tongue was tingling the slightest bit and you swore you could feel an uncomfortable heat follow the food as it slid down your throat. Thinking it was just a weird Devildom spice - after all, you’ve been here for how long? and nothing has happened yet? - you take another bite and immediately regret it.

Though such a food was no big deal for demons, it was powerful enough to knock you out of your chair and hunch over, grabbing your stomach as you cough forcefully in a desperate attempt to get the food out. Your insides were burning, your airways closing in and your chest crying out in pain the more you coughed. Soon enough, tears clouded your vision, and though you could hear the chaos around you, the only thing you could focus on was what felt like fire burning you from the inside out.

When you start coughing:

The moment you let out a little cough, his eyes are on you curiously. It’s just a remnant of the days when you were still so new to it all: the fragile little human makes a strange noise, be prepared to save a life.

He almost let his eyes fall from you, but he noticed that you weren’t stopping. It wasn’t the first time you had caused a scene at dinner, saying something afterwards about it “going down the wrong tube.” Still, this seemed...different.

When you fall off of your chair, he’s out of his before you even hit the ground. He’s kneeling by your side a second later, trying to tilt your head towards him so he can fully understand what is happening.

He finally realizes that you aren’t just choking and this is much more urgent when the blood starts coming out of your mouth.

He takes his attention away from you for a moment to ask who cooked dinner, and the brothers promptly rat out Mammon.

Though Lucifer is clearly agitated at that, he decides to lecture later and instead ask what Mammon put in the dish. Everyone erupts at once about halfway through because “How could you have forgotten what that will do to a human??”

That’s the last thing you remember for yourself - whether from the poison itself or being unable to breath through all your coughing, you passed out fairly quickly afterwards

Taking care of you afterwards:

Lucifer isn’t the type to panic in the moment. He’s very accustomed to taking the lead and having everything under control.

That’s in the moment, though. When he has Satan mix up the remedial potion, he’s fine, checking over you and keeping his brothers a safe distance away while he makes sure you’re still breathing. Once you’re safely in bed, brothers having been banned from your room until at least morning, and he’s the only one left lingering in the doorway, that’s when it all begins to set in.

There’s less regret and more general uncertainty in these moments - it starts with him wondering if he should really leave you alone, and soon enough it spirals into him reminding himself just how careful he needs to be with you in the Devildom. (And really, after taking charge of seven demon lords on accident, isn’t it just like you to get killed by a spicy leaf? Honestly, he should’ve known better.)

Once you finally do wake up, he tries to act like his normal “down to business” self - “I’ve told my brothers they are not to overwhelm you today, though we both know how that will go. I’ve made Leviathan figure out what bland foods are safe for humans, you’ll have to take it easy for now as your stomach is still irritated. Let me know immediately if you feel woozy or nauseous for any reason-” He prattles on and on, and though you’ve stopped paying attention you can still feel the softness in his tone

He tries to be gentle with you, and you have to remind him that you were just poisoned, not bedridden for months. Sometimes he’ll shoot you a glare and try to justify himself by saying it’s just like you to make another foolish mistake, but others he just won’t say anything and will keep the hand he has placed on your lower back “for safety”

Firmly believes in establishing as many preventative measures to keep this from happening again, so the next few weeks are going to be....a lot.

Sets up an alarm so he can remind you every lunch not to pick any of the “not safe for humans” options. Probably also gets you a seat in a class that goes over poisonous plants in the Devildom.

Do not try to skip this. It’s easier for everyone if you just let him ease his mind how he likes.

When you start coughing:

At first, Mammon assumes that you just heard the joke he made and (naturally) started laughing so hard your weird little human body couldn’t take it

So essentially, you start choking and he starts laughing at you thinking you’re laughing together

That all stops the moment you fall out of your chair and double over, suddenly dry heaving on the floor.

He sort of short-circuits for a second, not entirely sure what to do until one of the more knowledgeable brothers stoops down beside you

They tell him to just keep your airways clear and make sure you’re still breathing while they go to get the elixir they need, and he does. It’s one of the few times they see him so serious - he just doesn’t want to mess up, so he doesn’t focus on any of their comments or bite back

(”Gee, Mammon’s actually stepping up for once” “Yeah, too bad he was the one that poisoned them in the first place”)

(Lucifer: he WHAT)

Taking care of you afterwards:

Mammon is usually the first thing you see in the morning, so that doesn’t come as a surprise. What does surprise you is how quiet he’s being.

When you sit up and groggily ask, “Is something wrong?” (barely getting the words through your swollen lips) he is torn between trying to say something smooth (”N-not now that you’re okay!! not that i care....”) or calling you a dumb human. So instead he just stares at you

Eventually you can get it out of him what happened, and it explains why your face feels like it had been burned and your stomach feels gross

Mammon says he’s going to come up with a surefire way to protect you so nothing like this ever happens again, but his version of protecting you is sticking by your side 24/7 and he already does that so?

You’re the one that’s going to have to take the lead. Make a list of common ingredients that are SUPER deadly to humans and make sure you both have one for reference

Soon enough, though, he figures out how he can help you without your guidance and you catch him pointing out what’s safe without you having to ask

He follows you to the lunch line and examines the clear plastic boxes until he can point out a few human-safe options. He’ll bend to whisper in your ear in line at some fast-food joint. If you’re not sure, he’ll be the first to ask before you even remember that’s something you should be doing anyway.

He’ll even try to make dishes he thinks you’ll like without the poisonous ingredient! Sometimes it takes a few tries but if he wants you to try something with him, he WILL make it himself

When it comes to you, Mammon really will give you the best care he can. Sometimes he just needs that extra push to think things through.

(And if this wasn’t a push. a hard shove. over a cliff. into shark infested waters)

(don’t do this again, mc. his demon heart can’t take it)

When you start coughing:

Levi has never mentioned how his brother don’t normally speak much to him at dinner and he’s just learned to be highly attuned to you. He notices a lot of little things you do, and is normally the first to realize when you’re choking or something.

That’s why, when you start coughing this time, he is the first one to panic. He knows that that isn’t a normal cough, he just doesn’t know what to do about it.

He looks down at his plate and realizes what’s on it, something he cries out right when you fall to the ground, clutching your stomach. You’re on the other side of the table and his brothers are already crowding around you, so Levi doesn’t get to see the blood and can only hear your coughing.

When your coughing gets weaker as you faint, he freaks. the. fuck. out. Did you die?? Even as he tries to look over his brother’s shoulders, he can’t get a good grasp of what happened until somebody tells him.

(It doesn’t matter much though. He’s still stuck in a loop of wondering what he could’ve done if he had gotten to dinner sooner, if he had managed to score a coveted seat next to you, if he had just looked at his plate or offered to take over for Mammon...)

Taking care of you afterwards:

You wake up in your bed and Lucifer is the one who comes in, asking you how you feel and if you’re up to classes to die.

Being poisoned sure does take a lot out of you, so you ask to stay. Lucifer gives a quick nod and warns you not to shirk your duties, wishing you a fast recovery and letting you know that (human safe) food has been set aside specifically for you.

You doze off soon after (hey, a sick day may as well be spent sleeping in, right?) and when you wake up, somebody else is there, looking at you with inquisitive orange eyes and nearly scaring you half to death.

When you scream, he screams, backing up into your dresser and knocking some of the things off of it.

“I-I’m sorry-! I was just- told to check up on you- just in c-case....I’ll leave now!”

Boy’s gonna make you chase after him when you’re basically sick smh

If you go to his room and demand to be let in, he will - and he’ll let you stay under the guise of “well if you have to check on me every hour it’ll be less of a hassle if I just stay here...”

You won’t be able to get him to say he feels guilty for letting this happen, but when you pick up on the signs ensure him that he’s doing fine taking care of you. HIs cool room helps soothe your mouth (which is still a little irritated), and you’re honored he has an alarm set to check up on you

You know he’s feeling better about it all when an alarm goes off and he just asks “Hey you good?” and he chuckles a little bit when you respond “Hold on I gotta check my own pulse....... yeah i think i’m good”

Overall he is worried but he doesn’t know how to communicate it? So it’s a lot of quick, worried glances and double checking nutrition facts on packages before he hands them to you.

He kind of leaves you to your own devices, but he does send you worried glances every now and then until you’re recovered. He also makes it a point, when Mammon’s on dinner duty, to tell him exactly how he prepared the meal, though you don’t know if it’s for your sake or just to bother him. Probably both.

When you start coughing:

Satan has taken to leaving his books in his room for most dinner and talks to you in their place, so he notices what’s in the dish pretty quickly.

However, the second step of realizing what it could do to a human doesn’t quite hit him until you’re already on your second bite.

He reaches out to grab your wrist anyway, watching you cough while also staring at him in confusion. As he watches your face redden and your mouth swell, you take your wrist from his grasp and cover your mouth with your hand.

He’s the one who knows what to do, so he appoints someone to keep and eye on you while he runs (yes, runs, but he’ll act all cool about it if his brothers bring it up later) to his room to get some potion that’ll (hopefully) negate the effects

(Don’t let him hear me say this but) he’s similar to Lucifer in that he’s very level-headed when it happens - somebody needs to be focused on the cure when some of his more dramatic brothers are screaming (looking at you, Mammon and Asmo)

Taking care of you afterwards:

Satan might be the best at taking care of you, but he’s probably also the least fun.

Once he realized a while ago how fragile a human could be (and that he was interested in actually keeping you alive rather than just watching how long it takes for something to hurt you), he put in an effort to read up on how to help a poisoned human in the Devildom.

He knows how you must be feeling, and he offers you soothing teas or even a (human safe!) numbing lip balm to help you out.

(He finds great pleasure in how ridiculous you look, now that the danger’s passed - though he won’t tell you outright, you can tell it by the amused grin he isn’t even trying to hide)

Don’t be surprised if you catch him eyeing your plates of food for a while after the incident, and any time you catch him in the act he’ll look at you, take a drink out of the nearest cup and lift his eyebrows in a weird little acknowledgment that he’s been caught before saying “It looks tasty.”

Overall, he’s the standard amount of worried? Even though he will take every opportunity to tease you about how you looked afterwards or how feeble you are to be taken down by something so small (jokingly), he won’t ever get out of the habit of double checking your food to make sure it doesn’t happen again.

When you start coughing:

Asmodeus eyes you warily when you start coughing, but continues with his entertaining until you hit the ground.

He’s by your side in an instant, hands hovering over you as if he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself (he doesn’t).

He doesn’t remember calling for Satan, but Satan is the one who kneels by you, so maybe he does? His focus is on you and deciding on something he can do to help.

This ends up shielding your face, puffy and a mess from your tears and retching, from the others who are all peering over at you in concern. He knows it’s not the most pressing detail, but he figures that maybe he can preserve your dignity a little bit, no?

He follows the action with his hands covering his mouth nervously, watching as they have to force a potion down your throat now that you’re unconscious. He’s allowed to stay by you once they determine that you’re safe since he normally doesn’t cause too much of a fuss - not when he looks as pale and miserable as he does now, anyway.

Taking care of you afterwards:

He’s not too experienced in the healthcare field, but boy does he know self care! He knows how to get your skin feeling less gross after the rather...irritable reaction it had and the best way to rest is if you feel totally physically relaxed, right?

For a while, if your stomach still feels like it’s churning or you’re otherwise unfocused, he’s the first to defend you from anybody who thinks you’re overreacting.

Also makes sure nobody outside of the house knows how...unsightly of an ordeal it was. He isn’t shaming you internally or anything, but he’d loathe to have such an unpretty picture in people’s heads when you’ve been nothing but showstopping the whole time beforehand!

Will make sure to grab a seat across from you juuust before you take a bite for a while. It doesn’t matter if he’s across the room in the middle of a story or if you’re at a cafe with someone else and he’s still home. You’ll find him sliding in wordlessly to the seat across from you and watching you intently, making sure you’re eating something that isn’t going to burn you from the inside out.

Has multiple websites bookmarked on his D.D.D. that tell him what is poisonous to you and makes sure YOU are aware of what you’re putting inside your body before you eat it. He seems to genuinely think you’ll forget to save yourself from such a life-threatening situation, but the pout he gives you when you try to get him to stop is enough to convince you to live with it.

When you start coughing:

When you start coughing, he reaches over and starts patting your back absently in the way that usually helps.

He notices the way you grasp onto the table in an attempt to keep yourself up, coughing into your other hand as it gets worse by the second. When you almost slip off, he reaches out to catch you before you hit to floor

Is ready to do the Heimlich when one of his brothers stops him because 1) he’d probably snap you in half, and 2) that’s not what’s happening

He watches blankly as Satan approaches him, laying you down gently as instructed. That’s probably worse, watching you writhe on the floor like that.

He’s the one instructed to help hold you down so they can feed you the potion cure. He wants to hold your hand but it’s covered in blood, and he doesn’t want to risk loosening his grip on you and you somehow spilling it.

Taking care of you afterwards:

He’s the one most shaken up about the whole ordeal, I’d think? While the others are definitely worried he’s the one that has the BIGGEST problem with the feeling of helplessness so I think it would bring back some memories

He definitely keeps a watchful eye over you until you can tell him coherently that you’re okay, and even then he’s still treating you like porcelain for a short while

He can’t help it! Any time he’s reminded of just how frail you can be (and how unexpectedly something horrible can happen) he just...needs a few gentle moments to collect his thoughts.

Does NOT want you even looking at anything that has that plant in it (or anything else poisonous for that matter). Will straight up eat an entire dish from the pan if you give it a glance that he thinks means you’re thinking about eating it. He can usually get away with it since that’s similar to what he already does, but every now and then you see the look in his eyes and wonder if there’s something more to it

He’ll warn you in the future if he knows something is poisonous, but if you’re trying something new he’ll automatically ask you “Can you eat that?” If he doesn’t know, he can at least remind you to check for yourself.

When you start coughing:

Very few things can snap Belphegor out of a drowsy dinner stupor. You suddenly falling on the floor and coughing your insides out is one of the things that can.

If his brothers weren’t so concerned with you, they’d have a few quips about how quickly he startled awake

The first thing he does is dart his eyes back to the table, where he quickly realizes that they just inadvertently poisoned you. When he turns back, it seems the others have already come to that conclusion and someone is running off to help you

He knows that he doesn’t have much to offer in terms of help, but he will tear somebody (Mammon) away from you and kneel next to Beel.

He keeps himself under control by comforting Beel as he holds you down.

There’s definitely a sick feeling in his stomach, something familiar about you lying on the floor and bleeding that he doesn’t like. He pretends to be averting his eyes at the sight of them forcing a potion down your throat and not some regrettable memory.

Taking care of you afterwards:

You wake up and Belphie is curled up next to you in your bed. Nobody else is in the house and it’s 3 PM. You feel gross and you can’t reach your phone to actually confirm what time it is and you have no idea what the fuck is going on until he wakes up

Which he does, after you poke and prod him enough and he’s very grumpy about it

“yeesh, you get poisoned and suddenly you think you’re the princess of the devildom”

“I get WHAT”

Definitely is planning to get Mammon back tenfold

He tries to act nonchalant about it but he does keep waking up ever few hours and lifts his head to like. check that you’re good for the first day or so.

Sometimes he gets this sad look in his eyes and you have to smooth his hair back and reassure him that everything’s okay. It works a little but if he thinks he can trick you by pretending to sleep and then steal a few moments where he can Brood on his own while STILL cuddled up next to you, he will.

Suddenly takes an interest in what you’re eating. Every day. Every meal.

He doesn’t go to check on you but he does text you a few minutes before lunch or if you’re getting dinner somewhere other than the house “What are you planning on eating?”

Gets real huffy if you don’t give him a straight answer. Usually will respond with a “Whatever don’t get yourself almost killed again”

If you decide to get cheeky and answer “Probably straight poison, like right out of the mysterious bottle with a skull on it” he will just say “ugh, sounds like you. have fun.”

“...”

“...seriously, don’t do that mc.”

he sets alarms to wake up so he can make sure you don’t ingest literal poison be a little nice to him please

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lin-nin · 4 years ago

Note

Hey I totally loved reading your head cannons about Techno, Schlatt, Dream, and BBH accidentally killing their s/o's. I had a request and feel free to decline this if it's too heavy or whatever. What if those four lost a baby with you? Be it a child or a premature baby.

onHe We really suffering with these four two days in a row, huh? Obvious warning for pregnancy, birth, death, gore, miscarriage, all the like! This definitely is a heavier topic but I have no problem writing it. Obvious afab reader, as well :) Added a bonus Philza bc this angst prompt was screaming for some Philza.

Techno losing his child

When you had told Techno you were pregnant, carrying his child, he had been ecstatic. The way he smiled at you was enough to make you melt, especially as he held you close. He would often hold your forming bump, or nuzzle his face against it. The way he cared for you and the child you shared was so incredibly tender, making sure everything was okay for the two of you, for your unplanned family.

He rarely left you alone for long, not wanting you to be unprotected. He had only been at the farm when you had felt it, the sharp pain in your back. It had you staggering, tears in your eyes and hand fluttering immediately to your stomach. You knew something was wrong, and it was confirmed when the blood was on your thighs. You had screamed bloody murder, causing Techno to rush in, axe drawn. Ready to take down whatever had caused you to scream. Only to freeze when he saw you on the floor, sobbing and screaming.

It didn’t take long for him to understand. Especially with the amount of blood there was. He didn’t grieve at first, so worried for you. You always came first. He had helped you, albeit with shaking hands, clean everything up. He even helped you into the tub, hands stroking your hair from your face. You had grown numb and despondent, barely aware of his words. It hurt to see you like that.

He reassured you that it wasn’t your fault- because it wasn’t. It was nothing either of you could have stopped, but you still blamed yourself. He did mourn, though. While unplanned, he had been excited. He had looked forward to being able to raise a child with you. He reassured you in the end that the two of you could try again. Whenever the both of you were ready.

Schlatt losing his child

Becoming pregnant had not been your intention. Not in your plans for years to come. You had simply been fooling around, drinking with Schlatt and maybe getting a bit handsy. So when a few months had passed and you found yourself sick on the regular, a growing bump on your stomach, you were horrified. Not against it, entirely. Just taken purely by surprise.

Schlatt had been a little more vocal about it, expressing his disbelief loudly. He didn’t want to be a father. At least he didn’t think he did. He had just wanted to have fun. That’s all he ever wanted- to do as he please. He didn’t please to be a parent. Yet it was coming anyways.

As he watched you teeter around, pregnancy increasingly obvious, he found himself much more open to the idea. And when you had given birth- a healthy baby boy- he was there. He was there, and he was sober. He even was teary eyed when he got to hold his son. Everything was okay for a couple of weeks, until you noted that he wasn’t eating as much as he should be. He only seemed to grow weaker from there, before succumbing to whatever sickness had grabbed a hold of him.

You had cried, feeling utterly broken. Like you hadn’t protected him enough. Schlatt lapsed into drinking more than normal. He was angrier, snapping at anyone who even brought up his son. The only person he tolerated it from was you. Especially when you had shown up, eyes red from crying, requesting a drink. The two of you weren’t together, but you could definitely grieve your son together. It was, at the very least, cause for a friendship between you two. You had wanted a son, you had had him, and you had lost him. Schlatt felt largely the same, and the only thing that numbed the pain of the loss was alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.

Dream losing his child

Whatever gods there were seemed to have a sick sense of humor. You loved Dream so much. Everyone knew it, it was clear in the way you looked at him. Everyone knew he loved you the same, too. Especially in the early days, when he didn’t hide his tender touches and soft kisses from the public eye. Even when things started to change, when he grew defensive and angry, he still loved you the same. Even if it was harder for everyone else to tell, you knew. You could see it in his eyes. You were his weakness.

Which had lead to an argument between the two of you. You were a weakness, a liability, in danger. Something he needed to rid himself of. Which was when you had dropped on him that you were pregnant. It wasn’t what you had planned, not the way you’d wanted to tell him. It was almost as if the words had short circuited his brain, tongue turning to lead. He seemed to soften up after that. At least towards you. Only in private. In public he had only seemed to deny any attachment to you vehemently.

Your pregnancy had progressed normally, and everyone quickly knew of it. There were some congratulations, while others worried about Dream’s ability to be a father figure. You didn’t entirely pay them mind. Of course, nothing ever went smoothly with Dream. You had no way of knowing that when you went into labor, your baby would have come out without air in her little lungs or a beat to her heart. You had cried, so much. Holding her little body against you. Dream had seemed to shut down, staring down at his lifeless daughter.

He seemed distant afterwards. He blamed himself, truly. For maybe if he had been a better person, his daughter would have been born alive. He had practically cut you off, saying that he couldn’t risk you going through that pain and loss again due to his actions. It showed him that even if he wanted all the control in the world, there were some things he couldn’t control. The best way he could control this was by removing you from being put in that situation again.

Bad losing his child

Bad was always vocal with his love for you. You adored it, relishing in the way he would proudly tell anyone who would listen about you. It was endearing and you couldn’t help but tug at his sleeve to get him to lean down so you could kiss his cheek. That’s why it was no surprise when you had fallen pregnant. It was still in the early days, then, too. Back when L’Manberg was still around. You didn’t involve yourself too much with it, though. You were too focused on making everything perfect for your baby.

Bad had pampered you like there was no tomorrow. Getting you flowers, and your favorite baked goods from Nihachu. He would carry you around everywhere. He doted on you and made sure you got everything you wanted and that you were as healthy as can be. You adored it, and always responded by kissing the tip of his horns lovingly.

That’s why it was a surprise when your contractions had come early. Far too early. Bad fretted over you, which only seemed to stress you out. The baby was so tiny when she was born. Yet she was alive, and somehow still perfect. Your sweet angel. You loved her, staying by her side religiously. Bad was much the same, scared to even sleep. She spent so long fighting for her life. She was too small, too young, too underdeveloped. You knew it would happen eventually, her chances of survival low. It was why you cherished every moment with her.

Yet when she had finally lost the energy to fight to breathe, in your arms, you bawled. You cried for days on end, letting Bad hold you close as you did. He only held you, rocking you back and forth. He was hurt, unsure what to say o comfort you. Until one day he came to you, a newfound light in his eyes. Claiming to have found your baby, just in a new form. You had followed him, hoping that whatever it was he was right about. As you saw the red vines he presented to you, you felt the same attachment you had felt for your daughter. This really was her, wasn’t it?

Philza losing his child

Philza had been so excited when you had given birth to his son. His second child, at least biologically. He doted on the pair of you like there was no tomorrow. Always telling you how proud he was of you, how much he loved you. Giving your son everything in the world. After all, after losing Wilbur, he was determined to make sure he didn’t lose his second child. Especially when the boy’s wings started to flourish.

Teaching him to fly had always been his favorite thing, especially as he got the hang of it and could effortlessly soar through the skies with him. You would often find shelter under a tree, fondly watching the pair of them fly. As he grew, he had begun flying on his own, straying further from Philza. You never worried. There wasn’t anything to worry about. Until one day you watched him get struck in the chest with the bolt of a crossbow, helplessly watching him plummet almost immediately to the ground.

You had screamed, and so had Philza. He absolutely could not lose a second son, but watching his child speed down to the earth, he already knew he had. He looked with a vengeance for who had killed his son, while you scrambled your way over to where he had landed. Finding the culprit was easy, at least with wings. He hadn’t even thought twice when he had found the fleeing orange flurry that was undoubtedly his grandson. His trident wasn’t in his hand for long, being thrown straight into him.

Fundy had been vehement in his last breaths, insisting that Philza couldn’t love him as a grandson, and couldn’t love his other son properly either. Philza had no interest in his words, simply ripping his trident from his body and leaving. He grieved heavily when he had returned to your side, helping you bury your son. Despite his grief, and clear depression, he never pushed you away or distanced himself. If anything, he seemed to hold you closer. As if it would repair the damage left on both of you.

#Anonymous #philza #technoblade #badboyhalo #dream #schlatt #philza x reader #technoblade x reader #badboyhalo x reader #dream x reader #schlatt x reader #mcyt x reader #tw death #tw gore #tw blood #tw pregnancy #tw miscarriage

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tetralea · 4 years ago

Text

Only to watch - reversed

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader x Harrison Osterfield

Word Count: 1.7 K+

Warning: pure smut. Vaginal sex, oral sex (male receiving), forced orgasm, over stimulation, edging, sooo much dirty talk, a bit of a degradation, but nothing major, dom!Haz and switch!Tom, but Tom dominates this one pretty much, swearing

Summary: You and Haz invite Tom into the bedroom mainly to watch first, and now it’s pay back time. Now Harrison has to watch and live up to his statement as in he could behave better than Tom did. Tom plays absolutelly shamelessly dirty.

A/N: It is also a filthy one shot, thank you for @hazofmyheart for the inspo after the ‘first part’.

A few weeks went by since your first time with Tom also in the bedroom and since that absolutely reckless statement Harrison made:

‘I could behave a lot better if the tables were turned.’ And Tom? Oh, sweet and competitive Tom just couldn’t forget that.

That’s how it started, him sneaking into your bedroom while Harrison was in the shower, crawling on top of you, kissing you with internet. It wasn’t long until he undresses the both of you, making you impatient and longing for what he was about to give you.

By the time Harrison returned into the room Tom was already fucking you, with slow, deliberate motions. Your nails leaving long, red marks on his broad back and you were silently pleading for more.

When he noticed Harrison, he stilled, opening his thigh wide to give himself leverage as he sat up, his cock still burried in your hot cunt.

‘I think it’s payback time.’ That cheeky grin didn’t mean anything good, and he already had something in mind you could tell.

Harrison on the other hand remained eerily calm, only smirking and dragging a chair to the end of the bed.

‘Let’s see if you can just sit there and watch until I fuck your girl silly.’ Tom didn’t move ever since, making you squirming, trying to gain any sort of friction. His thick cock stretching you out as you kept him warm, slowly driving you mental.

‘I can behave better, you can bet on it.’

With that Tom returned his attention to you, starting to move slowly. The way Haz positioned the chair gave him a perfect view of you splayed across the mattress, legs impossibly wide for Tom, as he was still on his knees and shins, keeping his hips low and fucking into you. His hands were either on your hips or roaming on your body, earning a low growl from Harrison any time his hand wandered down, playing with your clit.

You were sure the position was intentional, and that Haz could see everything, every time Tom’s glistening cock entered you and pulled out. Tom made a show of it, moving slow, pulling almost completely out and then bottoming out. You couldn’t help it you whimpered every time he pulled out and moaned in pleasure when he pushed back. Your back arching from the mattress trying to feel more, get more and make him go faster.

When he finally did you almost completely lost it. ‘That’s it, darling, take it like a good girl.’ Tom growled as he was pounding into you, his fingers rubbing your clit deliciously. ‘Fuck, Haz, she is almost there.’ He looked up his lust blow, brown eyes meeting with tense blue ones. Harrison took it like a champion so far, his hands gripping his knees so hard his knuckles were white. ‘Look at her, so pretty, fucked out like this. Bouncing on my cock, letting me use this pretty pussy as I want.’ Your eyes widened at his words, but you didn’t have time to process it really as those words alone took you to the edge. ‘Say my name as you come.’ Tom commanded and you did so, his name fell from your lips like a prayer, as you pulsed around him, your body heaving under his strong, heavy thrusts.

‘Shit.’ Harrison let out a strangled curse his hips jerking and he needed every ounce of pride and strength not to say a word or touch himself.

Tom on the other hand seemed like he was enjoying this way too much, only starting to warm up. He fucked you though your orgasm, slowing down a little, dragging out every movement again to give you a bit of time to collect yourself.

‘Your boyfriend is pretty strong willed isn’t he?’ Tom asked and leaned back down, hoovering over you, resting on his elbows to kiss you. It was gentle and soft and made you melt into him immediately. ‘Let’s see how many orgasms I can pull out of you until he breaks.’ Tom’s devilish smirk returned and it didn’t promise anything good.

He pulled out of you, manhandling you easily, turning you around and pulling your ass up in the air and pushing back to with a satisfied moan. ‘Good, she feels so good, Haz. So wet and warm and tight. Fuck.’

You whined at his words, your body shuddering to his words and deep, hard thrusts. It felt like he was gonna be the death of you. He was still careful and being sure he was showing off as his cock was disappeared in you with ever second.

You heard some ruffling and looked up just to see Harrison giving in and pulling his cock free from his pants, his long fingers wrapping around his big cock. It was hard to tell if it was the sight or the small sound he made or Tom or all of them at the same time but you were on the edge again, pulsing around Tom. He chuckled like he was reading your mind.

‘It seems like our princess, likes your show pretty much.’ Tom said, surprisingly steady and coherent compared to his thrust. ‘She is squeezing me so much. What is it princess, you want to come?’ He asked, and didn’t leave time for you to answer. ‘Just say my name and you can.’

Your eyes remained shut, not daring to look up at Harrison as the words tumbled over your lips. ‘Tom, please.’

‘Keep going.’ He encouraged you with a smirk and you did. In return he fucked you right into your second orgasm, his hands holding you steady as it washed over your body. Through your dazed mind you could hear him praising you with broken moans and whimpers while Haz was panting heavily, cursing lightly as his eyes were drinking in the sight of you coming.

This time Tom didn’t slow down, he was way too worked up, seemingly running out of time and stamina to prove his point, so he decided to play dirty.

When you were down from your high, slightly shaking from over stimulation he reached out and pulled you flush to his torso, slightly turning the both of you so you were facing Harrison entirely.

This way it was impossible not to look at him. His gaze was on you, watching the two of you almost mesmerised. He wanted you, he wanted to go there and take you, but he had a point to prove.

‘Look at him, darling.’ Tom’s sounded breathless and like he was almost losing it, but he didn’t leave you time to dwell on it, when two of his fingers poked your lips, making you open your mouth for him.

He was playing dirty now.

Those two fingers pushed passed through your lips and you eagerly started to suck on them. ‘Keep your eyes on him, and imagine it’s his cock, that he is the one fucking your mouth like this.’ You moaned around his fingers shameless, body trembling, your mind on short circuit. ‘Do you want it? Do you want his cock in your mouth?’ He asked, and slowed down his thrust just to bring the worst out of you, playing with you, pushing your buttons just the way you told him you loved it.

You tired to respond but it was barely coherent, your earlier moans becoming cries as it slowly become too much.

‘Ask him nicely.’ Tom removed his fingers, some salive coating your swollen lips.

‘Please, Haz, I need you cock in my mouth.’ The words come easier than any of you ever dreamed of. He looked at you with desperation, his body and mind battling with each other, while Tom pushed his fingers back and you started to suck without any command.

‘She loves it so much, and both you and I know it. She loves when we fuck her cunt and mouth at the same time. She is so easy for us, comes so easily every time.’ Tom reasoned, breathing heavily, his hips going slow, shuttering slightly. He was close. ‘Ask him again.’

You did, over and over, shamelessly begging for Harrison as Tom fucked you. Haz’s hands were pumping fast his own cock, his chest heaving, cheeks flushed his inner battle visible on his pretty face.

You were at the edge and Tom used it mercilessly, your begging becoming high pitched, as he paused to hold you off for a second more. Now you were begging for Harrison for your orgasm, completely out of your mind and he couldn’t resist anymore.

‘Fuck it.’ He groaned when he got to the bed, pushing his pants off a bit more, grabbing your shoulder and bending you over to your hands and knees, his hard cock sliding into your mouth with ease. He tasted like pre-cum and something what was utterly and uniquely him. The weight on your tongue, the stretch of your lips, as you bobbed your head up and down felt like heaven. Tom fucked you hard and fast now, wanting to make you come so you could push him over as well.

‘So, easy for us. Always so eager to be filled with our cocks, love. Now let Tom use that pretty cunt and come inside of you. Don’t squeeze him. I know it is hard, just keep your cunt nice and open for him.’ Harrison’s voice slowly swam into your mind, his words having its effect on your as always, immediately obeying, your eyes rolling back and you moaned around his cock. ‘Now come for me.’ Harrison said with stern voice. ‘The both of you.’

And you did, you come hard around Tom’s cock milking him, as he twitched inside of you, Harrison’s command setting him off as well. It was all a blur, the pleasrue, your orgasm completely numbing all of your senses and it felt like it took over your body completely. You were overstimulated beyond anything you have felt before, but they didn’t stop until Tom emptied himself completely inside of you. When he stopped then and only then Haz tapped your shoulder, cueuing you about his impending orgasm. You nodded and he come hard into your mouth. His muscles tensed, thighs shook as he pulsed in your mouth, you doing your best to swallow all of his release.

After that it was a blurry mess again, they helped you to lay on the mattress, cleaned you up the best they could.

‘Maybe it was too much.’ Tom sighed, his hand reassuringly wrapping around yours.

‘You were so fucking extra, and you are so being punished for it.’ Haz chuckled, and you couldn’t stay awake anymore.

Tags: @we--are---not--afraid @terrifictomholland @tomsrebeleyebrow @greenorangevioletgrass @augustholland @worldoftom

If you also like these threesome type of fics let me know if you want to be tagged! Thank you!

#tom holland #harrison osterfield #tom holland smut #harrison osterfield smut #tom holland x reader x harrison osterfield #dom!tom #dom!harrison #smut #haz osterfield

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jaehyunfirstlove · 3 years ago

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Inked - part 2

*Part 2 of this, I recommend reading it first before this one :)

Pairing: tattoo artist!jaehyun x f.reader

Genre: smut (18+ only)

Warnings: unprotected sex, rough sex, oral sex (f. receiving), dom/sub, praise kink, cum play, dirty talk, swearing

Word count: 1.9k

Taglist: @jaehyunnie77 @mrg-jjh @keeach @the-universe-in-you-jjh @nootnoot-yoonoh @winniet @jaejoongiewifey-blog @iknowyuno @bbyqngels (send me a message/ask if you want to be tagged in future fics)

A/N: because of this anon, I decided to revisit this :)

You’d walked by the tattoo shop several times already, too embarrassed to go in considering what happened the last time you were there. You tried not to recall the memory too much, because your panties would dampen every time you remembered how the tattoo artist had railed you in the chair. He wasn’t able to finish his work though, since you’d hurried out of there afterwards, mortified at your own behavior. Now you had an unfinished tattoo, and you figured enough time had passed that he should’ve forgotten about you, but still you couldn’t bring yourself to open the door and walk in. Feeling like a creep, you eventually left, resolved to try again another day.

---

“What’s up with your tattoo anyway? Is it supposed to look like that?”

You were at the beach with your friend, Yuna, and she was interrogating you about your unfinished tattoo.

“Oh, he didn’t get to finish it.” You said dismissively, hoping she would drop it.

“Why not?” she asked, wrinkling up her nose, “I hope you didn’t pay him for it then.”

You coughed. “Uh, I paid him alright.”

She looked at you, confused, then shook her head. “You’re too nice, you know. You shouldn’t pay people for unfinished work.”

You just nodded, thinking she was probably right, when a shadow suddenly blocked your sunlight. Shielding your eyes you looked up, right into the dark sunglasses of your tattoo artist.

“Hm, that art looks familiar,” he said, a smirk on his face as he pointed to your tattoo. Your jaw dropped open as he stood there above you, Yuna lowering her sunglasses so she could get a better look at him. He was holding a surfboard and he looked like he’d just come in from the water, his hair wet and dripping as he pushed it back from his face. His skin glistened from the sunlight hitting the water droplets on it, highlighting every curve and dip of muscle along his chest and stomach. You swallowed dryly.

“Oh, hi-” you stuttered.

“Jaehyun,” he offered, the smirk still on his face, “I hope you remember me.”

How could I forget, you thought, but just nodded, as you could feel Yuna’s eyes boring into you.

“Why don’t you come by the shop, we’ll finish what we started.” He said, taking off his sunglasses to wink at you, before he nodded politely to Yuna and walked away.

“Y/N, what the actual fuck,” Yuna marveled, as she watched him walk away, “you never told me your tattoo artist looked like that.”

---

You entered the shop hesitantly, rubbing your sweaty palms on the sides of your jeans. The sound of the bell tinkling as you opened the door made you jump, but as you entered the shop you were calmed again by the sounds of cascading water from the zen waterfall, and the soothing scent of lavender. Jaehyun once again appeared from behind the curtain, but made no move towards you. He just stood there, hip jutted out in a cocky stance, head tilted to the side as he regarded you with a look of pure mischief.

“Well, well. Look who it is.” The corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk, as he looked you up and down. You started to get even more nervous under his gaze, and you started to feel very hot with the way he was looking at you. “Lock the door.”

He said it almost lazily, motioning to the door behind you, but his tone was unmistakable. You did what he said, clicking the door locked and turning back around to face him. He still stood where he was, still watching you.

“Come here,” he said, and once again you obeyed, your feet almost moving of their own accord. Once you were in front of him you stopped, but apparently it wasn’t close enough for him, because he suddenly reached out, slipped his fingers through the belt loops of your jeans and pulled you towards him until you were practically pressed up against him. You inhaled sharply at his sudden action, your chest heaving, and he smiled widely at your reaction.

“Mm, always so responsive,” he breathed, eyes roaming over your body. “Let’s have a look at my work,” he unbuttoned your jeans, slipping them down just past your hips. You were breathing heavily in anticipation, arousal pooling in your core as you felt his fingers on your skin. He traced his finger along the lines of your tattoo, and you had to turn your head to the side as your breathing became more and more labored.

“Hm, this is where I was so rudely interrupted,” his finger stopped its circuit on your skin, and he smirked at you again. Leaning towards your ear, he whispered “do you want me to finish?”

The heat of his breath against your ear, the closeness of his body, and how he smelled so sexy you wanted to devour him, all had such a mindblowing effect on you that your knees went weak, and you fisted your hands into his shirt to support yourself. He just picked you up, laying you on a nearby couch and peeling the rest of your jeans and panties off.

“Should I prep you first? Make sure you don’t make a mess on my chair again?” he asked slyly, his hands on your knees as he waited for your response. You bit your lip and nodded, and given the go-ahead, he slid his palms down your thighs. You were breathing heavily but once he reached your core you held your breath, and as soon as his thumbs touched your wet folds to spread you apart you moaned loudly.

“So expressive,” he smiled, as he leaned in, watching your face the entire time. You were gripping the leather of the couch so tightly, watching him, and as his tongue met your pussy you cried out, an embarrassingly loud noise that made you slap your hand over your mouth. He chuckled at first, but as you continued to be vocal, grabbing at the couch cushions and writhing and bucking your hips, he intensified his pace and fervor, keeping your thighs apart with an iron grip.

“You taste so good, baby, so fucking sweet,” he murmured, lapping up your juices like you were the tastiest dessert he’d ever had. You paused to breathe, but not before he suddenly slid two fingers in between your folds, pumping them as he watched your face.

“I wanna see you come,” he said, because your head was lolling back as your orgasm started to build, “Look at me.”

The low, commanding tone of his voice and his sultry gaze when you locked eyes with him was enough to send you over the edge, a stuttered moan all you could manage as your pussy pulsed around his fingers. You were barely done when he slipped them out of you, pulling his own pants and boxers down and sitting on the couch beside you. He pulled you to straddle him, and once you were situated on his thighs he pumped his half-hard cock, his eyes never leaving your face.

“You’re sexy when you come,” he said, regarding you with a smirk and a tilt of the head. You felt your cheeks warm up but you didn’t know if it was because of his compliment or the fact you just had a mind-blowing orgasm.

“Th-thanks,” was all you could say, your voice already hoarse from how vocal you had been when he ate you out.

“You’re welcome,” he grinned, before he positioned the tip of his cock at your entrance. “Now, ride me.”

You bit your lip, clinging to his shoulders as you sunk down onto his cock. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the stretch, your head falling back as you took more and more of him in.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, holding your hips, “so fucking tight for me.”

When he was all the way inside you, you paused to breathe, resting your head on his shoulder. You had a good close-up view of the tattoo on his neck, and you remembered how you had wanted to mark him up. You kissed along the lines of his ink, then traced the design with your tongue, sucking here and there to see if the marks would show up. He groaned as you worked, his cock twitching inside you, and soon enough it encouraged you to move, grinding your hips against him.

“Fuck, baby, that feels good,” he moaned, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. You increased your pace, snapping your hips and varying the angle until you found the perfect one, and you cried out as his tip hit your sweet spot. He took your cue, thrusting upwards into you as you rode him, your combined action sending you hurtling towards your second orgasm of the day.

“I’m gonna come!” you warned, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face there.

“Give it to me, baby,” he growled, reaching between you and thumbing your clit vigorously. You came with a muffled scream, your face still buried in his neck, your entire body convulsing as your pussy throbbed. He kept going, controlling the pace now, his thrusts never faltering. He lifted your shirt over your head and unhooked your bra, pulling you back so he could look at you. With appreciative eyes he looked you over, smirking slightly even as he pumped into you.

“So fucking sexy,” he mused, eyes roaming over your curves. You bit your lip as he watched you, arousal once again building in your core. He saw it in your face, your mouth parting slightly and eyes widening, so he bucked harder and faster, watching your face the entire time.

“That’s it,” he said, reaching up to tweak your nipples, “give me another one.”

His eyes never left your face as you reached your climax, watching you with lust in his gaze. He didn’t give you a chance to recover, flipping you onto your back on the couch and throwing your legs over his shoulders.

“Fuck, baby, you drive me crazy,” he grunted, driving deeper into you, still watching your face with hooded eyes. “So fucking sexy, so good for me, aren’t you?”

You nodded, falling apart at his praise, and his cock hitting so deeply. “Oh my god, Jae, oh my god,” you panted, you didn’t think you had it in you anymore, but you felt yourself coming again, this one threatening to be a big one.

“That’s a good girl, I know you got another one for me,” he bent down and sucked a nipple into his mouth, all the while keeping his eyes on your face, not wanting to miss a single second of the look on your face as you came.

“Oh fuck! Jae!” you screamed as you came, your limbs shaking as your orgasm reverberated throughout your body. He grunted as he started to come inside you, before he pulled out and pumped the rest of his cum all over your pussy and stomach.

“Another mess,” he smirked at you, sitting back on his heels to admire his work. You just lay there, exhausted and unable to move, but he had to admit, the way you looked so fucked out was really attractive to him. Reaching over to a nearby shelf he pulled out a fresh towel and started to wipe you up.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and finish that tattoo.”

#jaehyun imagines #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun smut #nct imagines #nct smut

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theonewiththefanfics · 4 years ago

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Thick And Thin (one-shot)

Synopsis: He never thought his wife would ever even think about divorce. They had problems, which is why they were at marriage counselling. But he never knew her heart had broken a long time ago. And he’d been the one to break it before they even got together.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: aaaaaaannnnggggssssttt baby, just wanted to write something that’d rip your heart out :)

Warnings: swearing, pain, kinda depressive (??), can’t think of anything else really, but please let me know if there is, also not my best work lol :D

Word count: 7102 (let’s start off the New Year with loads of pain :) )

Italics are flashbacks

“I want a divorce.”

Never in Harry’s life did he think he’d have to hear those words. Not after everything they’d been through, not after all of the effort he’d been putting in to save their relationship.

Those words had not only stunned him but their marriage councillor, the woman’s mouth open mid-word, as she tried to comprehend what was happening. Harry was fairing even worse. It was like his brain was short-circuiting, synapses broken and no longer sending any signals.

“Mrs Styles, I know it’s difficult,” the therapist tried to diffuse the situation. “But the reason you’re here is to avoid this specifically.”

“I don’t remember how you smell anymore,” Y/N continued not listening to the woman, voice like a black void, but her Y/E/C eyes rimmed with tears. “Or taste. I don’t remember how it feels to have you pressed up against me or what it’s like to hear your voice. I… I don’t have anything to cling onto anymore.”

“It’s why we're here!” he cried through clenched teeth, slipping on his knees before her, hands grasping Y/N’s in a vice-like grip. “It’s why we’re trying.”

The laugh she let out was detached and without any love. “We tried it your way, Harry.” She’d never called him Harry before. It was always Lover. “And it’s not working for me. It hasn’t from the start. We’re… we’re so unhappy. And I don’t want that for you or for me. We deserve happiness. But I don’t think we can give that to one another anymore.” She took in a shaky breath, looking down at Harry’s hands in her lap. “When I thought of it, at first I felt horrible. I wanted to throw myself off somewhere, but the more I sat on that thought, the more relieved I felt.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, didn’t want to believe it. “Relieved?” The word felt like acid in his mouth.

“Yes,” she nodded. “Relieved. Because this choice won’t make us hurt one another anymore. This gives us a chance to have a fresh start.”

“I don’t want a fresh start! We said – we said through thick and thin.” He was grasping onto the last straw he could find. “This is the thin, but we’ll get through it.”

“Harry, I already broke through the thin. And now I’m drowning. And when the thick comes, I’ll either be frozen under it and watch you walk further, or I’ll surface somewhere, and I don’t know on which side of the shore I’m gonna be on and where you’ll be. And if you try to get me, you’ll start drowning too. I don’t want that.”

“But that’s what marriage is! Going through the tough shit together!”

“Harry… I already asked Lionel to draw up the papers. The first draft is done.”

His blood froze in his veins.

“When you said to sit down and write one thing that makes me happy about the relationship,” Y/N was looking at the therapist now, “about the person, I – I couldn’t. Because I kept thinking back to the start, to the beginning. That’s what made me happy. But now…” She glanced at Harry. “If there was one thing, I couldn’t do to you, not in a moment like this, is lie. I just… I don’t remember how to be happy with you.”

***

They’d started out as the cliché of best-friends-lose-contact-only-to-be-reunited-and-not-let-their-chance-pass-by-and-fall-in-love. She was ten when she’d moved in next door to him and he was twelve when he’d seen the three vans full up to the house, a little girl hopping out from one of them. Harry watched as she rushed up the doorstep and put in a key, unlocking it and a new chapter of her life with it. Little did he know she’d unlocked a new chapter of his life as well.

She was the new kid at school, and despite the fact that he was a year above, he sat down next to her at lunch.

“ ’M ‘arry,” he said through a mouthful of a sandwich. “Saw you move in yesterday.”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I’m Y/N.”

And that was the start of a blooming friendship.

On her eleventh birthday, he gave her a handmade bracelet. She gave him a kiss on the cheek as a thank you, making Harry blush all shades of pink and red.

He was thirteen when he had his first real kiss on his birthday. Y/N had simply tried to peck him on the cheek, but he’d turned his head, and her mouth had ended up on his. She’d walked away with a shy smile and ears on fire.

She was thirteen when a boy first asked her out. Harry was the first person she told him about it. That was the first time his heart broke.

When he was fifteen, he got his first girlfriend. Y/N was fourteen when her heart broke for the first time.

And then he'd gone on X-factor and with that forgotten about her. She called him, texted him, messaged him on social media, but usually, she’d maybe get only one picture or a small ‘miss you too’ as a response. So, after a whole year apart, she gave up. What was the point of trying to save anything when he didn’t want to?

He moved on and became an international superstar. Y/N moved on and graduated top of her class, got into her first-choice university, and graduated with a first as well. He had some relationships here and there, while Y/N had had a steady relationship since the second year of uni, but when she decided to go to a different one for her masters they amicably broke up.

Eight years later she was sitting at a café in London, laughing with her ex-boyfriend and catching up, as he explained how what Criminal Minds showed wasn’t really what was taught in his criminology degree classes.

“I’m still saying I dated real-life Spencer Reid,” Y/N chuckled, sipping on her gingerbread latte. “Don’t give a shit, I need something to flex with.”

Harry had then walked inside the café, shaking off the snow from his boots when a familiar laugh he hadn’t heard in ages invaded his senses. It was almost like he’d stepped into a dream.

When his green eyes befell on the owner of the voice, he had to take a double-take. Somehow in his brain, he’d expected the fifteen-year-old teenager, a t-shirt of his face on her body, as she’d cheered him on when he’d gone onto his first concert as part of One Direction to be sitting in the chair, not the grown-up woman.

He’d still checked in with Y/N through what she posted on her social media, but as much as he’d promised not to have the celebrity life sweep him away, it had. Harry sometimes had two concerts a day, and he barely had a moment to take a bite of food. And he hated to admit it, but Y/N simply slipped from his life. And he didn’t bother to put in the effort to pull her back.

A huge wave of guilt and longing rushed through his body as he glanced at the woman, her face lit up by joy as she and the man before her continued on with their conversation.

Someone tapped on his shoulder, making him turn around and face another customer. “You gonna order anything?”

For a moment Harry stuttered. He could walk away without inserting himself back into Y/N’s life, but he didn’t want that. He’d missed her. Harry didn’t even realise how much he’d missed her.

“You go ahead.” He motioned with his hand. “I’m still thinking.”

Harry took in a deep breath and then walked towards where the pair was sitting.

The man’s eyes flitted up to see who was towering over Y/N, only for them to widen, and his mouth hang open.

A sense of pride filled Harry's chest at the reaction and maybe quenched a little bit of the jealousy invading his body. He used to be the one who made Y/N laugh until she had to tell him to stop or she’d pee herself. He was back to take up the role.

“You okay there, Dan?” she chuckled. “Don’t tell me there’s a ghost behind my back. I told him not to walk out of the flat wit –“ Y/N had turned around and almost choked on her drink. “Oh my god, Harry! Oh – hi!” She jumped up hugging him, feeling how his body shook with laughter at her reaction, strong arms weaving around her middle. “Holy shit, it’s really you!”

“Yeah, ‘s me. Who else?”

“I didn’t know you were back in the UK.”

A warmth spread through his chest, as he reluctantly pulled away from the hug. “Been checking in on me?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, sitting back down, but pulling up a third chair for Harry to sit upon. “Dan’s a huge fan.” She motioned with her head to the man. “When we first started dating, I thought he was only doing it because we used to be friends, and he hoped I’d set you up or something.”

Harry masked the choke of envy by clearing his throat and letting out an awkward chuckle. “Hope I’m not interrupting a date or something.”

“A catch-up date, but not a date date.” Dan lifted his brows at Y/N, who gave him a ‘don’t start this’ look to which he threw up his hands in surrender. “I’m just making conversation.”

“You’re being annoying, that’s what you are.” Y/N flicked a crumb from the table towards him.

It was in that moment that it truly hit how much he’d missed, and it hit him hard he no longer knew the person who once was his best friend.

“You’re different,” Harry said, looking over at her trying to keep the lump in his throat from making his voice break.

Y/N shrugged, eyes twinkling. “I mean it has been almost a decade. I do hope I don’t look the same as I did then. Otherwise, the pain of braces was of no use.”

“No,” he chuckled shaking his head. “’S not that… It’s like you’re a different person.”

“I grew up,” she said, sipping on the last bits of her drink. “ ’M not the same fifteen-year-old you saw last.”

He nodded and bit his lip. But the thing was, Harry wasn’t the stupid sixteen-year-old that left the fifteen-year-old her either. This time, he wouldn’t let the chance at happiness pass him by when he could’ve had it all along.

***

He sat across from Y/N at the large marble table and watched, heart bleeding out in his chest as she put her signature on the papers, her attorney fishing out something from his briefcase and handing it to her under the table. He saw her shoulders shudder before she placed a maroon rectangle with a golden inscription on it in her own purse. Harry wanted to vomit. It was her new passport, where her surname no longer matched his, where he no longer existed, inscribed into the document as her spouse.

“Mr Styles?” Y/N’s lawyer pushed the papers his way, the pen laying atop them. “’S your turn.”

‘Your turn’, as if it was a game of spin the bottle or UNO.

“Don’t make me,” he choked out, pleading with Y/N one last time. “Please don’t make me do this. Don’t make me give up on us.”

Her words were worse than a knife to his soul. “You can’t give up on something that’s no longer there.”

When they’d been at the stage of negotiation, he’d kept pushing for giving her at least half of his income, to give her one of the houses they owned together, but she’d turned everything down.

“I didn’t marry you for your money, Harry.” He’d expected her voice to be full of venom, but it wasn’t. It was sad, resigned. “I don’t want what you’ve earned.”

“Let me give you at least something.”

“I don’t want anything from you. If it makes you feel any better, you can donate whatever amount you wanted to give me. I don’t care. All I want from this is for you to sign the papers.”

“And if I can’t?”

Y/N sighed, looking down at the table. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

That’s when her attorney had cleared his throat. “Mrs Sty – Y/L/N. Legally, according to the prenup, you are entitled to half of Mr Styles estate as well as twenty percent of all his earnings.”

But Y/N just shook her head. “I only signed those documents because that’s what he and his agent wanted. I never asked for it or anything or the sort. Donate it, for all I care. Buy a new house, Harry I literally don’t want to know what you do with your money.” Y/N took in a sharp breath and calmed herself down. It’d been the first time Harry had heard any sort of emotion from her since she'd spoken those horrible words. “I just want this over with.”

And now, he was at the moment of the end. He just never thought their story would end with broken hearts and ripped up futures.

His handwriting was barely legible at best of times, but right now it seemed as if a toddler had tried to forge it with how much his hand shook. When the pen dropped, so did his shoulders, and he saw Y/N’s drop as well.

Harry’s with weight from the love lost, Y/N’s with relief, for now their broken hearts wouldn’t hurt one another no longer.

His lawyer handed him over a new passport as well, where Y/N was no longer written as his spouse. The urge to rip it to shreds was almost uncontainable. He hated it more than the divorce papers.

***

They’d been dating for a little over two years when he decided to propose, only every plan he had was miserably ruined by some outside force.

The first time he’d decided he’d do it at a romantic dinner. Harry had found out Y/N wasn’t a fan of huge romantic gestures, so he wouldn’t get on one knee and draw everyone’s attention. He’d simply take her hand in his, kiss her fingers and ask.

But as they’d sat at the table enjoying their meal and talking, he noticed Y/N become quieter and quieter. A frown morphed on his face.

“You alright, Lovie?”

“Umm,” Y/N’s brow creased even more, and she dropped her fork. “I umm I don’t know. ‘M feeling kind of funky?”

“What’dya mean?”

“I – “ Y/N opened her mouth but didn’t manage to get anything else out as she jumped up and rushed towards the ladies room.

Harry quickly dropped his own utensils and rushed after her, not bothering with the yells of the woman who was looking at herself in the mirror, while his girlfriend threw up her guts inside one of the toilets.

A member of the staff had run to see what all the commotion was about, but when he saw Y/N half inside a stall, half outside, Harry’s hands keeping her hair away from her face, he went back out and immediately grabbed the first aid kit they had in the kitchen, handing it to Harry along with a cold wet towel.

Y/N shuddered, leaning against the stall wall sweat glistening on her face, as he pressed the damp cloth against her skin. She gave him half a smile. “Told you not to get the shrimp.”

“I’ll get the cab, Lovie.” He smoothed away the once meticulously styled hair, which was now stuck to her damp skin.

But she shook her head. “Not yet.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m about to puke again.”

In the end, she threw up two more times, her stomach really not agreeing with the entrée. The waiters kept apologising the whole time, and the chef had stopped cooking, the restaurant immediately taking action and refunding everyone who’d ordered anything with shrimps in them.

When they’d gotten back home, Y/N was so tired and felt so sick, Harry could only help her get out of the dress, clean her up with a warm towel and wrap her up in her favourite pyjamas before curling up together on his bed and falling asleep, making sure if there was a moment, she felt nauseous again, he was by her side. She needed his help more than he needed to propose.

***

He threw himself into his work like a madman. Day and night, he was either at a studio, on a filming lot, in between meetings or interviews. The media buzzed about how his marriage had fallen apart, even though Y/N hadn’t made a statement or spoken a word to anyone, and neither had Harry. But he guessed the emptiness of his ring finger gave everything away.

He refused, however, to speak on it. As painful as it was, he was still in love with Y/N. She hadn’t chosen to be in the spotlight, it was Harry’s world, not hers, so he respected her decision to be quiet and remained so himself, save for one single post his management had asked for him to put up. It'd also been the last time he'd spoken to her.

All he received was a simple text message 'do what you have to do'.

A couple of months down the line though, something came up, and Harry couldn’t keep his tongue behind his teeth.

It was an article in The Sun, a photograph of Y/N plastered all over the front page with the words ‘Gold-digger Y/L/N finally seen out after divorce with Harry Styles.” He’d snatched the paper right off the stand and flipped it open, frantic green eyes scanning the words.

‘Despite it only being two months since the two childhood ex-best friends broke up, Y/N Y/L/N was already seen in the company of a man, sharing a drink, and giving one another flirtatious smiles. An inside source tells us, how she hadn’t even been that upset about the divorce and has been going out and having fun with many male companions, one of them being her ex-boyfriend from university times.’

‘Harry Styles, known for his time in the pop boyband One Direction and for his solo endeavours in music as well as dabbling in acting, broke everyone’s belief in true love after being seen in public without a ring. This prompted an announcement that the four-year relationship and two-year marriage to who was once his best friend had ended and the two had decided to get a divorce. Although the post showed a picture of their silhouettes holding one another with their foreheads together, and his statement showed nothing but love and respect for his then-wife, sources say Y/N had been controlling and obsessive over her then-husband and hadn’t wanted him to leave to pursue his career, stifling his growth.’

He didn’t bother to read any further, as he pulled out his phone, calling Jeff immediately to figure out how to make all of it go away, how to do at least one thing right.

“They’re dragging her name through the mud!” he sneered, not even caring he was bumping shoulders with people, and if the paparazzi would dare spin a story of the state he was in at that moment, he’d sue each and every one of them personally. “I have to do something. Fuck, Jeff, I love her! I can’t let them paint her like this. Y/N – “ he choked back a lump. “She never asked for this. Didn’t ask for anything. And that man – that was Dan, okay. I know him. Yes, he’s her ex, but they don’t know anything!”

“Harry I’ve sent them cease-and-desist letters already.” Jeff tried to ease him. “But… she’s no longer your concern Har.”

The words hit him like a bullet and ripped a hole in his chest just like one of them would. “You might still love her,” Jeff’s voice was solemn. “But Y/N is no longer yours to protect.”

“I can’t just let them talk shit about her,” Harry whispered back.

His friend sighed on the other side of the line. “I know. Which is why we’ll deal with it. But you have to start letting her go.”

***

The second time Harry wanted to propose was about a month later, and Christmas was right around the corner. They’d decided that Christmas Eve would be spent with his sister, her boyfriend and Anne, while Christmas Day they’d go to Y/N’s side of the family.

Although they’d settled on one gift each, Harry had been carrying around that small box for what felt like an eternity. And it wouldn’t really be a gift, given how he’d wrap it and hang it in the tree.

“It’s an ornament,” he’d say to her, a smug smile on his lips, as Y/N would roll her eyes at him. “Just because it has your name on it, doesn’t mean it’s immediately a present.”

And then she’d open it, and would gasp, and Harry would slide down on his knee, press a kiss to her ring-free finger before asking that fateful question.

But just like before, his plan didn’t come to fruition.

He’d asked his mother to hang up the little box, so there was no chance of Y/N seeing it in his hands, but what he hadn’t thought of was Gemma’s boyfriend had decided on the exact same plan of action.

When Michal had dropped down on his knee, Harry’s sister’s trembling hand in his, he couldn’t do that to them. As much as he wanted to marry Y/N, he couldn’t take away Gemma’s moment. So while Y/N was preoccupied with looking at the gleaming diamond on Gemma’s finger, Harry plucked down the box from where it’d hung and placed it on the side no one could see, before he could put it in his bag.

“ ’M sorry, honey,” Anne had said to him over coffee the next morning. “I didn’t know Michal would do that.”

He’d just shaken his head, no hurt in his heart. “Great minds think alike. Our moment will come. ‘M happy for Gem. Besides, if he hadn’t done that anytime soon, I would’ve needed to have a stern talking.”

***

What his sister said to him made him think he had to be living in a simulation, because it couldn’t be true. Y/N couldn’t be getting married. Not this soon. Not ever. Not to someone who wasn’t him. It had been barely a year since he’d signed the death sentence to his own happiness.

Harry shook his head. “You’re lying. Tell me you’re lying, Gem.”

“I’m not.” Her voice broke as she said it. “I saw her at a café. Saw the ring… the man who gave it to her. Harry, I’m so sorry.”

His mind reeled with questions he wasn’t sure he wanted answers to. Was that why she’d really divorced him? Had she been cheating on him and just needed an excuse out of their relationship to jump into the new one? He was away so much on their relationship, he wouldn’t have been surprised if someone else had swooped in and tried to win her heart.

Harry’s mind was one of the greatest things he’d been blessed him, but also one of the worst curses bestowed upon him, as it weaved a story of Y/N and the man who’d now put a gleaming ring on her finger.

He was away, like always, doing something he could do another time. She was on her own, keeping their bed warm with just her body, fighting for their relationship on her own, while he made plans once more to go to a different part of the world and leave her behind again.

Y/N pulled herself out of the bed, sighing and rubbing her face. She opened their closet only to be greeted with Harry’s half empty. Maybe that was the moment she decided to find someone who’d fill it and wouldn’t leave it permanently empty, Harry conjured up.

She’d dress in a soft jumper and some jeans, a large cardigan hanging over her body and would go to a café for her morning drink. And that’s where she’d meet him. The stranger that would take her out of the lonely life she’d been living. The stranger that would make a smile bloom on her face and her heart stutter once more. The stranger who would show her the love Y/N deserved to have.

Harry had to shake his head to get rid of the thoughts before they ventured into a worse territory.

No. Y/N wasn’t like that. No matter what, she would never cheat on him. She had enough dignity for herself and respect for him, even though in his own mind, Harry didn’t think he deserved it.

Although he didn’t have a right to, nor was it the sanest move (and if someone saw him doing it, there would probably be a slew of articles), Harry got into his car and drove to where Y/N’s apartment was, and when she opened the door after hearing seven loud knocks, he stepped inside without even waiting for her to invite him.

“You’re getting married?”

She crossed her arms. “It’s none of your concern.”

“It’s been barely a year! I refuse to believe you’ve moved on so fast.”

Maybe he was kidding himself, and Y/N truly had, but as much as their marriage had fallen apart, he did have the honour of having known her and having figured some things out deeper than others would.

Y//N scoffed. “I was proposed to. And I said yes.” The words were like venom entering his veins. “If I wasn’t, then I wouldn’t have agreed to it. And as I already said – it is none of your concern.”

Harry stood there, watching as she dragged a hand down her face, eyes flitting everywhere he wasn’t. It told him everything he needed to know.

“You’re not happy,” he whispered stepping forward and reaching for her hand. “I know how you shine when you’re truly happy. This isn’t it. Why are you doing this?”

“That doesn’t matter.”

Harry was so confused, at a complete loss at what Y/N was saying. “So, you’ll what? Get married to him and be miserable? Why the hell did you divorce me then?”

Y/N sighed. “Being unhappy with him isn’t as unbearable as being unhappy with you. Because with you, I know what it feels like to truly fully loved. Which is why it broke me when you stopped.”

“I never stopped!” Harry whisper yelled, anger coursing through his veins at her words, because they were lies. “Why do you think I dragged us to marriage counselling? Why do you think I kept fighting for us? For you?! You were the one that gave up!”

“You weren’t there when I needed you.”

Harry blinked rapidly, not understanding what she meant.

“You left me for ten years. You forgot all about me until that day at the café. Not once did you message me or call me or even send fucking snail mail. I was the one putting in all the effort, I was the one who was trying to keep you in my life, but you didn’t want it. Just like it was when we were married.”

Rage bubbled under the surface, but he kept it at bay. That was not how he’d get Y/N back. “How?” he asked calmly. “How did I not want it?”

She scoffed shaking her head. “It was the same as it was ten years ago. With the movie, the new album... You were always at the studio or hanging out with your castmates. When I asked for you to free up one night, one single night, you didn’t come back until three AM, drunk off your ass, and I had to take care of you. I asked for one night. And you didn’t even give me that. So forgive me for not feeling like you still loved me.”

“Why didn’t you talk to me then?!”

“I did!” This was the first time he’d ever heard Y/N yell, before kneading her lips tightly together and then continuing more quietly. “But you never heard me. Not really. You heard what I asked, and promised to be there, but when the time came… something more important always came up. Something that always deserved to have the promise you gave me to be broken.” Y/N gave him a sad smile. “Do you remember when you first asked me out? And I said no?”

Harry nodded. “You said that we just got one another back and didn’t want to have anything rip us apart again. Didn’t even want to chance it.”

“And you said it was exactly why I should give us a chance. That we’d finally found one another again and shouldn’t let the opportunity go…” She tilted her head. “Guess we should’ve listened to me. I included.”

He couldn’t believe her. “Is that really your takeaway here? You were right?”

“But I was.” Y/N shrugged. “Look at where we are now. You forgot me for basically ten years.” She shrugged, stepping away. “Give it some time, and you’ll forget me for the rest of your life. Besides, we’ve not known one another longer than we have. So, it shouldn’t be that hard.”

“Why did you then? Go out with me?” Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. “Get married to me?”

For a moment Y/N just looked at him, Y/E/C eyes boring into his green ones. “Because I’d once again convinced myself I was important to you, just like I did when we were teens. And in my head, I had dreamt up that maybe I’d be important enough for you not to forget me.”

***

The third time did the charm though.

They were both sleepy, under the covers of Harry’s bed, eyes barely keeping open as they were determined to finish Elf.

Y/N had her cheek pressed against his chest, bare body next to his naked one. She hated sleeping in pyjamas (unless they were staying over at one of their parent’s places,) because she said it made her feel like the clothes were suffocating her. Harry didn’t like sleeping with pyjamas because all he wanted was to fully feel the skin of his lover next to his.

Snow fell behind the large windows of his London penthouse apartment, covering the city in a white blanket. It rarely snowed there, so he watched with warmth in his heart as the flakes fluttered to the ground.

It was all so calm, so serene, that Harry realised that’d been the moment he’d been waiting for. No need for fancy dinners or present it as a loud gift. Being together was a gift enough.

“Lovie?” he asked, nose hidden in her hair. “You awake?”

All he received in answer was a small hum. She was on the verge of passing out, but this was the moment, so, he whispered the question, voice so low as if he was asking the dark to marry him not Y/N.

He couldn’t look at her, afraid of what she might say, afraid she might say no, think back to the times he wasn’t there for her, think of all the reasons why he wasn’t good enough for her, and would only bring her sorrow.

“Lover.” Her voice was as soft as a summer’s morning. “Look at me. Please.”

It was one of the most frightening things in his life, as he did so.

Y/E/C eyes met green. What he saw on her face allowed his heart to calm down a little.

“Is the Sun the closest star to us?”

That he hadn’t expected. “What?”

“Does it rise in the East and set in the West?”

“Y-yes?”

Her hand cupped his cheek, and he melted against her. “Then why are you asking me a question you know the answer will be the same as to those?”

“Can I put the ring on your finger then?” He was more excited than about anything in his life.

Y/N shook her head, bringing his lips to brush against hers. “Don’t need a ring. Just need you to kiss me.”

***

The wedding was far away from the city so that no one from the press could even think about following her or her entourage. The guest list was small, compared to the three hundred people Harry’s and her wedding had had.

Anne had told him not to go. He wasn’t invited, and neither was she or Gemma, for obvious reasons. As much as Y/N loved them, she knew it’d hurt the two women, but it would hurt Harry more. So seeing her stepping out of the car, dressed in a cream wedding gown, a veil covering her face, made flashbacks appear behind Harry’s eyelids.

She’d worn an off-white gown before as well, dusty rose to be exact. And Harry’s bow tie had matched it. Y/N had never liked the thought of wearing white at her wedding.

“Listen, if it’s white, I’ll most definitely spill something on it,” she’d told him as both of them had been flipping through some wedding magazines. “You know me. But if it’s some other colour, there’s a bigger chance no one will notice when that happens.”

It didn’t seem right to him. It was like a bad fever-dream like he’d had that one time, and Y/N had had to listen to him babble about the hallucinations dancing in front of him because of the high temperature.

Her gaze remained on the ground, or maybe on the bucket of white roses in her hands. She hated white roses.

A woman in a pale blue dress straightened out the back of Y/N’s dress and the train of it, and he watched as her mother came to stand beside her daughter, giving her an elbow to grasp onto.

All he wanted was for Y/N to be happy, and it hurt to think it wasn’t with him because Harry believed it was supposed to be him.

He took in a shaky breath and got out of the car just as Y/N had walked up the steps and disappeared behind the double doors.

It was going to be him.

***

Harry knew he wasn’t the best husband in the world. He was away for a lot of time, and as conceited of an excuse it was, his job did entail going out to parties, mingling with other people living the high life, and being seen with certain celebs.

Y/N was never one for it. She always supported Harry, but she didn’t like going out and spending time with people who didn’t care for her existence. Well, maybe they did, but only in a sense that she’d been the lucky bitch who’d snagged up the Harry Styles.

But if there was something Harry did was love, and he loved wholeheartedly, which is why it absolutely destroyed him when he’d gotten back home one evening and heard Y/N crying in their bathroom.

She’d never tell him, but it was because no longer did his pillow smell like him. Harry had been away for so long, that the essence of him that’d soaked into their sheets was no longer there. And it broke her to pieces.

When he’d get home, he’d be so tired, he’d crash on the couch, only tiptoeing his way into their shared room to go to his closet and get some clean clothes in the morning. He’d look over at his sleeping wife and allow a blissful smile to bloom on his face at the sight.

He was so lucky to have Y/N back in his life. He was so lucky she’d accepted him and fallen for him as he’d fallen for her. He’d silently move over and press a kiss to her temple, before going back down and off to work once more. Only he wouldn’t see the dried tears on her cheeks.

So, when he’d found her curled up in the tub, hands in her hair, face hidden by her knees, frame trembling like leaves in a storm, he instantly dropped to his knees, ignoring the sharp pain shooting through his bones, as he pulled Y/N into him.

“I can’t, Harry,” she choked out, shaking her head. He knew it was bad. She never called him by his name. “I can’t do this. I’m so alone. Even when you’re here, I’m alone.”

Harry had had his heart broken before, and always he wondered afterwards if someone took it out of his chest at that moment, what kind of a sound would it make. Or maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe it’d be as silent as the tears running down his face at Y/N’s confession.

“Maybe,” he swallowed harshly trying to keep his whole body from shaking, from showing the fear her statement instilled in him. “Maybe we need couple’s therapy.”

“What?” her eyebrows had shot up to the middle of the forehead.

“Y/N, we’re clearly having problems. I – I know I need to work on things, but you’re also not telling me how you’re feeling. Maybe we just need some help.”

She didn’t really know what to respond. In her mind, Y/N had somehow conjured up an image that if she ever got married, they’d be happy. Sure, they’d fight and have rows, but they’d always be able to work things out on their own. Not once in her life, did she ever think she’d need to go and see a marriage counsellor to help her save her marriage.

Her own parents much like Harry’s had gotten divorced. Hers had tried therapy. It’d been their last resort. It didn't work. So, when he’d mentioned it to her, that’s what made her decide it was truly over.

Y/N nodded, bringing him in for a hug, and felt his body melt into hers with relief.

She’d try, for Harry, but her mind was already made up.

***

So he stood outside the doors, listening for the line of ‘if there is anyone who opposes this union speak up now, or forever hold your peace’. His hand grasped the handle, ready to push, but… he couldn’t. He’d ruined her happy ever after once before. He couldn’t do that again to her.

Tears streamed down his face as he pocketed his hands and ventured away from the ceremony. The ceremony where the love of his life was promising to cherish someone else, to fight through thick and thin with someone else, to make someone else happy, while her own happiness suffered.

Harry sat in his car, waiting for her to exit, a smile on her face as she’d hold the hand of who now was her husband. That'd be the moment he'd let go of her. But when the doors sprung open, she was alone, hands clutching onto the front of her dress, as she rushed down the steps and back inside the car she’d arrived in.

For a second he sat in his vehicle, stunned beyond belief at what had happened, at what, as horrible as it sounded, he hoped had happened. When a man, hand in his hair ran outside as well, the same woman in the pale blue dress rushing out with him, Harry knew.

He was basically a madman on the road, breaking almost every possible law as he tried to catch up to the car Y/N had jumped in.

His mind raced with the possibilities of where she could’ve gone. The airport, her family’s summer house in Winchester, honestly anywhere in the world, but Harry shut up his mind, and allowed his heart to make the decision.

It didn’t seem like Y/N had premeditated fleeing from her wedding, which meant she’d need her stuff. And that meant going to her apartment as quickly as possible before someone came to look for her.

The way he parked was probably illegal leaving the car basically in the middle of the road, but Harry didn’t care much as he frantically rushed up the steps of her apartment complex. He was scared that if he knocked, she wouldn’t open, thinking it might be someone from the wedding, but he didn’t need to be afraid of it, as he saw Y/N, her hair still styled as it had been for the ceremony, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, a suitcase in hand exiting from the flat.

“Why didn’t you do it?” he breathlessly asked, startling her and making her drop the keys.

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed. “What? What are you doing here?”

Harry stepped closer, hand cupping her cheek, insides trembling from all of the emotions coursing through his body. “Why didn’t you do it? Marry him? Why didn’t you say yes?”

“I – “ Y/N choked on her words. “I couldn’t say yes. It didn’t feel right.”

“Why?”

“Because it wasn’t you, I was saying yes to.”

That was all Harry needed to kiss her like he'd done once before. And this time, he wasn’t going to let her go. He’d made that mistake twice. He would never repeat it again.

“I love you,” he cried through a laugh. “I love you. I love you. I love you. And I’m never letting you slip through my fingers ever again.”

“How can you even think about loving me again after what I did to us?” she asked, pulling away from his lips.

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re talking like I ever stopped. Through thick and thin. It’s what we promised. Think and thin, my Lovie."

***

A sixteen-year-old Harry and a fifteen-year-old Y/N laid outside in the grass of Harry’s garden; eyes trained onto the dark night starlit sky above. It was the day before his life changed forever as did hers.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” Harry asked, trying to catch a glimpse of a shooting star.

Y/N scrunched up her nose. “No. I don’t think I do. And I don’t think I want one.”

“Why not?”

“What if they’re old and in their thirties? Or dead?”

Harry snorted at her response.

“And you?” Y/N turned her head to look at him. “Do you believe in soulmates?

He bit his lip and nodded. “I think I do. I think it’s two people who’ve been brought together, and no matter what happens will find their way to one another. Through thick and thin.”

"And what if one of them breaks the other's heart?"

"That's the thin." He looked at her. "And you don't give up then. It's when you need to love them even more."

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15 @breezykpop @girlboss99 @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist @alliyjane @sirtommyholland

A/N: Happy 2021 everyone! Hopefully things are better this year, and everyone stays safe and sound.

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. please don’t repost my fics on other platforms without specific written permission. Reblogs are a okay :)

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